Running with a Ghost
by Saemay
Summary: Sequel to Walking with a Ghost. Involving the non-severed ties of Hal's past coming to bite him, Rook and the MiG and the shifting power balance of the supernatural world post Old Ones. (SPOILERS warning for Season 4 and Walking with a Ghost)
1. Prologue

_Blood._

_Thick, wet__,_ _puddled tendrils of it._

_The floor, the bed and wall behind all seeping with it. A morbid spatter in an arc across white linens, its contrast noted._

_In a place that _felt _familiar but was not sat an explosion of crimson in an intoxicating, primal perfume. The scent was in strong competition for the heavy summer night but could not be mistaken. Flickering firelight drowned out the glow of the moon, its heat growing stronger, illuminating peaks of sharp white amongst the dark wreckage. Small shards like scattered pottery strewn across the floor. Exposed ribs in a curved arc were the only things recognizable as once human._

_Hands with black sickles of fingernail, carnage buried underneath crusting red smears. A slick satisfaction was spreading. A long__-__held hunger, abated._

_Awareness broke away from satisfaction, a bubble of doubt rising into a mute scream of anguish, of nightmare. Like a cresting wave, a tsunami, the floodgates of horror breached and spilled into voice. An immortal scream that knew no end..._

* * *

Gasping, Alex Millar came to the surface, fighting to escape the sound still echoing out of her nightmare. With a jolt she felt Hal's close-pressed muscles tense, his lips brush her shoulder. A sleepy query of her name. She reached for his hand draped over her waist, clasped his fingers and whispered automatic platitudes. _It was okay. Go back to sleep..._

Not fully awakened, he drifted back into sleep easily. Still ragged with shock, her non-existent heart in her throat, Alex could not.

She would have gotten up had she not been frozen with panic. A deer caught in deadly headlights. There was no mistaking the nightmare.

In an attempt to calm herself, she remained nestled close against his body and took in the quiet of the darkened room around them.

It had happened again.


	2. Previously, A King Overlooking the Sea

Morning light streamed down on the sleepy coastal town of Barry. Not too many people were out and about. The weekend had barely begun. The sea air held the slightly crisp quality heralding the coming fall, but the clear morning sunshine was warming.

Richard Turner snoozed in his M-class, the sun heating the black metal, green-housing the tinted glass to sink pleasantly into his old bones. After his agitated drive of the evening prior the feeling was rather nice. His phone had already begun pinging message alerts, but he had muted it. All of it could wait. Today may very well be marking the end of an era if he played his cards right. His business and the flavor of his investments could be drastically different by this afternoon. Best to keep offline until he was certain.

It could be a mistake. Henry Yorke, an employee of a seaside hotel? The name was common enough. Richard almost hoped it _was_ a mistake. Try as he might, he could not picture his colleague here. Owning the building, yes. Laundering money through its books? Yes. But as acting "Manager of Housekeeping?" Doubtful. If he hadn't already driven across the country Richard would have been inclined to dismiss the lead altogether. Old Ones did _not_ go about employing themselves as human, even one as eccentric as his partner. Why would he? The heavy portfolio weighing down the seat next to him was proof of enough that Henry Yorke did not _need_ to work anywhere. All he had to do was ask.

And ask he did... "_I want out, Richard."_

The thought weighed heavily on Richard's mind. Perhaps ol' Henry had finally _truly_ snapped. He had been clean, presumably for decades now. They _all _knew how that could warp the mind, weakening and eroding a vampire until there was nothing left but madness.

Richard glanced at his phone for the hour. The thing was peppered with notifications for missed calls, voicemail, text and email messages. And it wasn't even eight o'clock! The advancements of modernity were both a blessing and a curse; to be so free to roam and yet so tied. Richard sighed. Henry wasn't the only one who wanted out. Richard's long overdue vacation had been postponed with the downfall of the Old Ones. Investments had to be re-negotiated. Portfolios redistributed. Not to mention the crumbling stocks that would have risen with the anticipated global chaos they were now sorely lacking.

Yes, his messages could wait. At least until after breakfast.

Richard opened his door and stepped onto the street, filling his lungs with the tangy salt air. Straightening his suit and his resolve, he approached the Barry Grand.

* * *

Distant chatter and the clinking of china could be heard down the corridor along with the telltale odor of breakfast. The hotel lobby however was quiet. It was early for check outs.

'Megan' read the girl's fake brass badge. She smiled sweetly for him and he removed his hat with old-fashioned flair.

"Tell me, Megan. Is Mr. Yorke in today?"

The girl looked at him blankly for a moment with mud-brown eyes before recognition skipped across their surface, "D'ya mean Hal?"

Her Welsh accent struck him like a soggy blanket. "Yes. _Hal_." Richard knew Henry well enough to note the significance of his public name, but a pressing irritation distracted him from the thought. The drive had taken it's toll. The girl's fresh scent was tantalizing against the competing fry-up and coffee.

"Nay sir. Hal is out today. Friend's funeral, the poor dear," she caught herself and didn't elaborate further. Looking at him quizzically, she added, "If you're in need of housekeeping I can refer you to Mr. Edwards."

_Since when did Henry bother himself with funerals?_ "No need to trouble yourself. I'm an old colleague of Hal's." Richard reached into his breast pocket, extracted a polished platinum case and withdrew an elegant business card. "I was hoping I could catch him while I was in Barry. Maybe next time."

"Terrible luck," the girl glanced at the card Richard had slid across the polished counter, "Mr. Turner. Will you be staying with us? Hal is due back tomorrow."

"He mustn't have had to travel far then?"

The girl shrugged. "He did'na say."

_Probably a cover for something else._ Richard relaxed. He could manage his business here for the day just as well as his previously arranged stay in Cardiff. "Do you have a suite currently available?"

"Our bridal suite is taken by a hen-do tonight. But we have a King overlooking the sea?"

"Why yes. That would be most convenient."

After a surprisingly refreshing shower and a shave, Richard closed the door on room service. Welsh cakes and fresh-squeezed orange juice would go nicely with the o-positive in his briefcase. After breakfast and a quick perusal of business, he would enjoy a nap. And perhaps a stroll. It was rare he allowed himself a day of respite.

Settling in at the desk with the sounds of squabbling seagulls beyond the window, Richard uncorked his flask and indulged in a hearty draught before anything else. Momentarily sated, he tucked his napkin into his collar and began the deliberate work of slicing through layers of cake and buttery cinnamon. Only once it was all ordered into bite-sized pieces did Richard return his attention to his phone.

There had been another missed call while he had showered. _His secretary. Again._ Ensuring the hotel notepad was was at hand, Richard chose to listen to his voicemails first. Only those closest to him had his direct number. The amount of messages, though not overtly unusual, gave him pause. It was still fairly early on a Saturday. Celine had known he would be away today...

The first message was a client requesting information on a new acquisition. Many of his clients kept less than usual hours, often forgetting the standard decorum of things like weekends and "early". Richard forwarded the message to the office for Celine to handle and made a note of it.

The second message however gave him pause. Celine, who actually did understand the concept of a weekend, had sounded almost hesitant in her short message. "Richard, call me when you receive this."

By the time he got to her second message, Richard's sunny disposition had faded.


	3. Comforts of Home

Authors Note: _Why hello there! Thanks for coming back to join me on this thoroughly EPIC ride.  
I'm hoping that you have read the pre-cursor to this story, Walking with a Ghost. Recommended if not. But if you insist on forging ahead, here be a slight need-to-know:_

_- WwaG was written BEFORE series 5, so therefore takes little-to-no account of the events in S5. That makes the world of WwaG and now RwaG an alternate universe of sorts. Do with that what you will._

_- Alex & Hal are united by her blood, making Alex a revered and rare type of ghost, stronger than most and shielded by Hal from the doors of death and the Men with Sticks and Rope._

_- Elements of Alex's character were fabricated by me based on what little we knew about her at the end of S4. The primary differing point is that I surmised her mother left their family by dying, which has actually caused a stronger but gentler character shift in the way she became the matriarch of her family. She has history dealing with addiction, so has been invaluable in helping Hal through his._

_- Hal has a history with Richard Turner, a vampire Mitchell mentions briefly as having been the first to live a double life. Previously a slave trader who ran for Parliament, Turner is a little younger than Hal, but not an Old One. They own an investment company, Turner & Yorke based out of London that specializes in long-term property holds._

_- Lastly, ____I don't own these characters - they own me. Sincerest of thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground._

* * *

The countryside beyond the glass of Leo's old Mercedes was swathed in a darkness just as black as the pre-dawn journey had been. Moors and hills dotted with the occasional flock that flashed white and idle, slowly ebbed to suburban sprawl strip mall lights. Unlike his earlier journey, the passenger seat was empty. The temptation of the cities was stronger without her here.

Hal Yorke stayed the wheel. He kept to the long stretch of the M6. The peace and stability of home called him like a siren. The ribbon of road yawning behind him was a pull of another sort.

She had asked him to come, but she hadn't anticipated the crowd her life would have drawn.

_Five more miles. Merely five more miles until the turn off the roadway. Drive through. Do not stop. You will not stop. One, inhale... Two, exhale... Three..._

_Park the car. Wheels to the curb, just so..._

Hal stepped onto the sidewalk and latched the car door gently. All of the houses along the street were dark, with the exception of one. Hal checked his watch. _Not even God was up at this hour._..

_Up the steps, silent. Unlock the door, silent._ Once through the foyer Hal closed the door quietly. Leaning against the door frame to take in his home, he allowed a smile to cross his face. _Not even God..._

Tom McNair, werewolf wonder and vampire slayer extraordinaire, was asleep. The textbook he had been reading sat open on the table in front of him. His head was pillowed on his arm, the angry red scars visible on his scalp.

Hal purposefully jingled his keys. Tom started upright, reflexes ahead of his consciousness. Blinking awake, he relaxed at the sight of his housemate.

"Oi Hal," Tom rubbed the crease in his cheek and glanced around the room. "Where's Alex?"

Hal placed his keys in the dish on the bar and took off his jacket. "She stayed. She needed more time."

"Oh..." Tom's sleepy brain was still catching up to him. "You shoulda let me come wit ya. I coulda driven home."

"No. It was fine. You need not use your leave, now that you are in school. Besides. I was not much use," Hal added as he pulled out the chair opposite and sat down, weary. "All of us there would have been even more awkward."

Tom's sigh turned to a yawn, "You a'ight though mate? Got home okay?"

"I'm here, aren't I?"

"Well, yeah. Just..." Tom stopped with an uncomfortable look, feeling he'd spoken hastily,his sleepiness having gotten past his better judgement. With one raised eyebrow Hal managed to goad him on. "Were there lots o'folk there?"

"Yes. She was loved," Hal admitted.

"Cor she were. She's Alex. Were you okay though? Didn't have any hankerings?"

Hal pushed an amused snort of breath, "Every second. But it was fine. I kept a certain distance. We were advised not to associate ourselves in any case. She followed them to a pub in town. I went for a walk."

"A _walk_? And you didn't come across anyone?"

"I came across several someones. You do realize Glasgow is, in fact, a city? But no one died, if that is what you wish to know. It was quiet. Nice, actually." Changing the subject with a hint of amusement Hal asked, "Were you waiting up for me?"

"Well... yeah. Sorta."

"Thanks, I think," Hal smiled. "Look - it's late. You should go to bed. Somewhere other than on your coursework?"

"You gonna be alright?"

"Certainly. Why?"

"It's just - this is the first night you an' Alex been apart in a long while. You think you'll be okay without her? Cuz I can stay up with you. Allison's already -"

"I've managed without Alex for centuries," Hal interrupted Tom's offer. "Surely I can manage the remains of one night. Go to bed Tom. I'll see you in the morning."

"Right. Yeah." Tom closed his book. Hands in the pockets of his jumper, he shuffled sleepily towards the stairs. Hal was on his way to the kitchen for a cup of tea when Tom added, "Nearly forgot to mention - somebody came looking for you at the hotel today."

With what he hoped was a casual slowness, Hal turned around. He was surprised it had taken them this long, but didn't let it show. He asked with feigned indifference, even though he certainly knew, "Who?"

"Don't know. Megan just mentioned it 'tis all. Probably vampire yeah?"

"Probably. Get some rest, Tom."

_Definitely no point in attempting sleep now_. Hal had anticipated this, but had been thankful for the respite. The previous weeks had been a blur even without influence from London. Tom's recent stride into home ownership coached by Hal, and Allison's strategic coup over Tom's education were accessories to Hal's surprisingly disconcerting interview with Mr. Rook and the subsequent dealings over Alex's body.

_Alex._

The merest thought of the ghost sent a tug through the center of him. He could feel the miles between them like a physical ache. Ever since she had saved him through the anchor of her blood, he had been able to sense her. It was as if an invisible thread spanned between them, regardless of distance. He now craved to be as close to her as she to him. It was unnerving.

And yet, thus far, he hadn't minded. He still yearned for blood. That was never going to change. Alex's blood called to him with as much reality as the rest of her, but it seemed out-beckoned by the lure of their bond. He harbored no illusion that he still could slip; he was terrified of even accidentally hurting her. And yet, the violent urges of his nature were battling against the soft comfort of something else. After continually failing to restrain himself from physical contact with her, he had finally stopped trying, which, as with any addiction, only seemed to increase his need.

Hal anticipated their journey would be like this today. And also, he knew it had been unnecessary for him to accompany her. Superfluous. He had come simply because she had wished it. Supporting Alex through her own funeral was the least he could do. After all she had done for him, he would grant her any comfort she wished.

The kettle coming to a boil broke into his thoughts sooner than he had expected. Between the hours of driving and the overwhelming exposure to people, the day had been a continual gnaw dragging against his resolve. Maybe he was fatigued enough for sleep after all, even with his circling thoughts.

Still, he poured a steaming stream of water into a mug. Without a glance he retrieved a spoon from it's precisely given place to the right of the knives and started stirring. There had been a haunted feel to the afternoon. The people listening to the priest drone on about the salvation of the eternal soul seemed to sense the supernatural flanking the edges of their flock. Invisible to all but him, Alex had weaved past the people she held most dear in life. One by one, she had said goodbye. Unable to bear watching the faces of her father and brothers any longer, Alex had finally come to stand next to Hal without a word. None of the mourners had taken note of the lone man respectfully admiring the cathedral's architecture during the Requiem Mass. _Specialis filia Romanae ecclesiae... _The mosaic crest declaring the church of St. Andrews as a special daughter was a touching coincidence.

The church filled with the silence of prayers as the priest began the Eucharist. Hal tilted his head to Alex, indicating the doorway to the cloister garden. His presence here would soon be too overt for him to remain. Despite evidence that her death had been an 'accident', the Regulatory Office still had advised Alex to travel on her own, lest her family work out who Hal was. Mike Nave had originally been hired to investigate Alex's cafe worker mystery date in connection with her disappearance, after all.

Alex gave a last lingering look at the assembly of her family and friends, then followed Hal outside. The sky was shockingly blue, making the day more apt for a wedding than a funeral. Thankfully, no one else was presently in the garden. Alex had neglected to warn him of the mirrored modern memorial that sat at its center. He noted the irony of their opposites. His shadow pooled the ground under his feet while hers came and went dependent on her tangibility. Today, it was absent, the reality of her own mortality having finally hit her. Alone, her reflection sat clearly under the words on the polished memorial plinth before them.

_L'aqua che io gli daró diventerá in lui  
una sargente d'acqua  
che zampilla per la vita eterna._

_Eternal life._ Hal didn't need the translation to note the irony. They moved away to stand next to the garden wall facing Clyde Street. After the service the crowd would be heading to a further afield pub, one of Alex's favorites, for her Eulogy and wake. "I'm sorry," she finally said, watching as people began to shuffle out of the church. "I need to stay. For a bit. I shouldna''ave dragged you here."

Hal understood. He had expected it. He bid her farewell with a gentle kiss to her forehead, "You can find me if you need." And then he watched her go. She had followed after her brothers without a backwards glance.

Unable to drive home until the cover of night, he wandered. Played tourist until he could bear it no longer. The marvel of a modern bookstore whittled an hour with some long-forgotten treasures, but he soon was restless, so he walked. Despite the faint but present limp in his gait. West, across town despite the continual pain from a leg that may never heal. _Not without blood..._ his persistent inner voice reminded him. Visiting the Botanical Gardens was like visiting an old friend. The arching glass of Kibble Palace, far more elegantly designed than the Crystal Palace of London, still enthralled him as it did a century ago. He had made a rather satisfying kill at the inaugural ball... _No. _He would not think on that.

In the darkened and quiet kitchen, Hal stopped stirring his tea, only to discover he had completely forgotten the sachet.

No, sleep would not be finding him after this day.

* * *

_292, 293, 294..._ Alex had not returned. Hal tried to revel in the solitude. Without her continual chatter and teasing, the room was quiet. _305, 306, 307..._ But he still found himself missing her. _319, 320, 321..._ His routines had been slipping more and more. Firstly his injury continued to be a disability, the burnt skin and muscle a tight and present pain no matter the amount of stretching or calisthenics. But secondly, because of _her_. She could make him lose count with one smouldering look of her wide almond eyes.

_337, 338, 339... _That was enough. He was exhausted. And _hungry_. Better to switch to sit-ups to tame the ache. _1, 2, 3... _Mornings, which used to be so difficult for him, were quickly becoming his favorite time of the day. Alex was a morning person. She had gotten that way looking after her brothers, he was sure. _13, 14, 15..._ But the ways in which she would wake him. Anyone else would have suffered their death at such a thing. _At another point in time, his bedmate wouldn't have lived to see the dawn..._

_19, 20, 21..._ Hal regretted many things, but not being able to ever awaken her was one of the foremost presently. Due to their very nature he would never be able to watch her sleep, never be able to awaken _her_ in such a way. At the thought of how, just the other morning...

Hal lost count. _Thirty... something. _He wondered how long she would stay. _He wondered if she would return at all. _It had been such a long time since he had let go with someone like this. Until Leo took him underwing there were lovers, sure. But it had been centuries since he had _allowed _someone to love him. He kept himself distant, cold; a ruthless breaker of hearts. He was fearful he would break her heart anyways. Somehow. The sense of doom lingered over him like a cloud, made worse by knowing that she knew.

_Forty two, forty three, forty... Fuck it._

It was a night for light reading.

* * *

_Home._

From one, to the next.

Alex appeared in front of the cheery four-letter placard spanning the kitchen at Honolulu Heights. Annie had taught her that if she could picture it, then she could be there. The "HOME" sign was now as much of an anchor as Hal, which is why she wouldn't hear a word of it when he wanted to add it to the donation pile. Instead, it had remained hanging properly over the range in kitschy cheer. The rest of the bric-brac he could tidy and discard as he saw fit - it was technically his house now after all, even if the deed was being made up in Tom's name.

Alex leaned against the counter in the dark and listened. She could feel Hal's presence in the house and wanted to teleport directly to him, but thought better of it. It was late. He'd be knackered and hopefully, sleeping soundly without her there. Alex felt knackered herself and she didn't even _need _sleep. The range of pure untempered emotion she had wrung through in the last day... the steam was right outta her as her Dad would say. Even though she had left her father sleeping soundly in his favorite chair (and put away the empties and turned off the tele) the thought still hit her with a pang of loss.

That was her past now though. It was done. Her closure was closed. She was mourned and now her family had to learn to get on without her. Just as she had learned to get on without them...

The gradual approach would disturb Hal less, she theorized. All she wanted to do was climb into bed without him waking. Without question, without conversation. She just wanted to hold close the one good thing she had in this strange afterlife and slip into blessed _nothing_.

Alex climbed the stairs slowly, her family's faces still circling her mind. Upon reaching his landing she was surprised to see a gentle light illuminating the dark stairway. She nudged the door open without a sound and latched it behind herself. Despite the hour, near morning, Hal had been reading. Her quiet entrance hadn't fooled him. He had set his book down, seemingly waiting for her.

She didn't know what to say. Her mouth opened, then closed. With one meeting of their eyes, he stood and abruptly crossed the room to sweep her into a rare embrace. His grip was strong, solid, his familiar scent a comfort. Alex immediately couldn't fathom how she had managed to stay away.

His hands swept down past her jacket to weave between her fingers. The barest of contact and their embrace flared to fire. From comfort to want so terribly quickly. Alex kissed him fiercely. Could she say everything with this? Without saying anything?

With haste they were tumbling towards the bed, an easy thing considering it now took up the front half of the room. She had talked him out of the single.

She felt a surge of emotion when they hit his precisely neat blankets, just as he had left them at this hour yesterday. A distant part of her registered that Hal's reading light was flickering, but she couldn't get enough of touching him. His face, his chest, the smooth rigidity of his arms. He urged the jacket from her shoulders, letting it fall and sliding his hands down the bare skin of her arms. He inhaled deeply into her hair as she wrapped her legs around his waist, both of them sitting upright.

Hal must have caught something in her face, or else it was the flickering lamp that made him stop. Alex could feel more than hear her heart hammering between them. And she could _hear_ more than feel her own broken sobs. She realized she was crying. All the emotion and heartbreak of the day came tumbling out. Hal just held her, a hand slid to support her back, his chin on her head while she sobbed her grief into the cradle of his shoulder.

She appreciated how he wouldn't console her, wouldn't whisper platitudes that _it all would be okay,_ when it wasn't. He just let her sadness rage. At least the contents of his room remained in relative peace...

She sniffed into his collar, subsiding with a sigh. Slowly, she came aware that he not only was supporting her, but gently rocking. The motion was small and she wondered what he had been like with Eve. She leaned back to look at him and he stopped. His eyes were warm, understanding. She gave him a brave smile, trying to play off her tears. Hal leaned his forehead to rest against hers and they remained that way for several slowing beats of her heart.

"Did you ever want..." Alex started suddenly, then thought better of it and trailed off. Of all the ways she could change tactics, talking about _that_, out of all the emotions the day had dredged up, was probably not the best.

"Want what?" Hal replied softly, hands traveling to her waist to stroke the silk of her dress.

Alex met the openness of his eyes. With a nervous tug of her lip, she forged into it. "A family? I mean, more than this."

Hal immediately furrowed his brow, his relaxed muscles stiffening. "I do not see how that is relevant." His reply came more as a question than an irritation.

Alex shrugged, "I dunno. T'was from being around them today. And saying goodbye. Not just to them, but to all of it. Everything I could have been, or ever wanted," Alex sighed. "Maybe it's stupid, but I wanted to ask. Did you ever want children?"

"Why does it matter what I wanted when it cannot be changed now?"

"It matters. To me, it matters. Did you?"

Hal stayed his hands on her waist but looked away. His eyes grew distant and it was a while before he spoke. Alex started to think it was a mistake. She should have kept her heartache to herself. He was still so hard to read.

"I wanted... to leave behind the station I was given and make a choice for a different life," Hal's voice was even and detached as he returned his gaze to her, "You are asking if I made a choice for something that had never been an option."

"No. I'm asking if you ever wanted to. It's different."

Hal's expression was impassive. Unreadable. She kept hold of his gaze and the question, not letting it go. His eyes didn't change when he brought a slender finger to grace the edge of her cheek. Or when his arm slid around her waist to support her as he tilted her slowly down. His fingers following the line of her jaw, to her throat and down past her collar to her dress. Hal leaned forward, the lower reaches of his tight stomach pressing into her groin as he shifted the soft green silk up. His cool fingers traveled past her camisole and their locked eyes finally broke away with her shudder. When his lips met her stomach Alex no longer cared that he hadn't answered her question.

* * *

_*L'aqua che io gli daró diventerá in lui  
una sargente d'acqua  
che zampilla per la vita eterna.  
_The water that I shall give will become  
A spring of water within,  
Welling up for eternal life.

_There are some great pictures of the garden and church if you search for ArchDioceseofGlasgow or St. Andrews Glasgow._


	4. An Incident

_Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they own me. Special thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground._

_Reviews are welcome, loved and encourage prompter updates._

* * *

The glow of dawn came over them too soon. Alex's hand was resting on Hal's navel, one finger lighting over the indentation. She would never tire of this. These moments when he didn't seem so far away; when he would let himself relax with her. Sex was dangerous, and perhaps always would remain so... But it was a small release as well. And since he still hadn't recovered from his injury enough to get much use out of running... Alex hadn't minded the increased need one bit.

She didn't want to let him go, even though she knew the hour was approaching; time to start the day. "You should call in sick," she suggested, circling his navel. "You haven't slept," she added to appeal to his logical side. But he merely sat up, running fingers through his errant hair.

Their morning activities had them leaving late enough that Hal had to drive to work. Alex offered to teleport them, but he declined. They weren't _that _late, he rebutted. Weaving through the side streets, avoiding other motorists already out to enjoy a sunny Sunday, Hal stole a glance to his left. Alex lounged in the passenger seat, window down and the breeze ruffling her hair. She caught his eye and smiled, her sad regrets from the prior day having been put behind. The contentment emanating from her was contagious on this sunny morning. Focusing on the road, Hal edged into the blind spot behind a delivery truck. The air through Alex's open window had a lingering hint of summer to it. He had always appreciated the turning of seasons. From the extroverted bright days to the insular protection of winter's onslaught, fall was especially a time of transition. It really was only a few brief days every year - a week or two at most - that felt like they could stretch summer into forever, even if change was inevitable. For at least this brief moment, Hal could acknowledge his happiness, _even if change were inevitable_. Alex had completed closure with her family, and yet she was still here. She had elected to move forward, not remain rooted in her past. He hadn't been entirely certain she would come back.

At the hotel they parted ways. Hal hadn't sensed any other vampires lingering in the vicinity, and Alex had work to do too. But as the morning wore on, Hal's mood faded with his growing fatigue. The lack of sleep the past two nights was catching up to him.

"A friend came by lookin for ya," Megan's voice rang out like squeaky brakes, piercing through the stockroom inventory he was trying to get through.

"I heard," Hal managed with all the civility he could muster. He should have taken Alex's advice. Calling in sick was far preferable to ripping out a co-worker's throat.

"Are you alright?" The girl paused after retrieving the notepad she was after for reception, "Cuz you seem a bit peaky."

"Did he leave a name?" Hal ignored her pass.

"How'd you know he was a fella?" Still, she slipped the card out of her pocket and waved it in the air, "You naught be expecting on a lady caller?" At his scowl she handed the little card over.

Hal clenched his jaw and focused on his breath. _R. Turner_. In perfect letterpress. Richard always did appreciate the art. "I hardly see why that would be relevant," Hal muttered, realizing from the girl's lack of departure that he should say something. He placed the card on the clipboard in his hand like just another piece of work to attend to. His coworker was twirling her hair with the tip of a finger. A girl twirling her hair like that was always a bad sign... _Or a good one, depending on the hunt..._

"It's just me an' Sophie be having a wonder. And I just thought it was a nice spot of conversation to ask..." she crossed the threshold into the stockroom with him and flashed a smile.

"Sophie and I," Hal started, mirroring her step forward with a step back.

"What?!" Megan's voice raised a pitch in betrayal, her round and open face flashing to complete shock.

"Your grammar," Hal elaborated, letting his eyes drop irritably to the card on the clipboard.

"Oh! So you're _not _seeing anyone then?"

_Jesus, not again. _Alex had gotten the last one fired. She swore she hadn't, but Hal was beginning to recognize her zeal for mischief. Any excuse to ghost about. Hal couldn't help but sigh at the thought. Megan may be annoying, but she didn't deserve to have her bookings messed with. No, he would have to nip this in the bud.

With an expression that dropped the coy smile off Megan's face, Hal let his irritation show. "I am, as a matter of fact 'seeing someone'. Which coincidentally Miss Lloyd, is no business of yours. Or Sophie's."

Megan, her instincts ahead of her face, stepped back, her hair forgotten. "Oh. Oh well, that's... great," she stuttered, backing away. The girl momentarily looked as if she would say something else, but at Hal's hard stare thought better of it. Without another word, she turned and left.

Hal breathed a sigh of relief. Returning to his count of hand soaps, he wondered just how the hell Richard had found them. And he still had absolutely no idea what he was going to do about it. He couldn't kill Richard. His partner's death would be far too problematic. And yet, so far, there was no ambush in wait. Richard had departed, leaving only his card. A truce, it would seem.

When Alex appeared in the storeroom the dryer was whirring, soft and soothing. The room always struck her as stark. White walls, white shelves with row upon row of plush white towels and stacks of toilet tissue wrapped in white paper. A contrast in darks, Hal was standing with his back to her, holding a clipboard. Alex watched him for a moment, appreciating the strong line of his shoulders and the sensuous way his neck moved while he wrote.

"You really shouldn't do that when the door's open. Megan was just here," he spoke without looking at her. Since Alex had used her powers to save him, he had gotten superbly good at knowing exactly where she was.

Pulling a stack of shrink-wrapped plastic cups off the shelf, Alex made a face, "What'd _she_ want? And no one can see me ninny. I always check before loading up."

Hal's eyes flicked to the card on his clipboard. Part of him wanted to tuck the card close to his chest. To hide it from her. Even after facing down Hetty and the imminent return to blood, Hal still had to fight that undermining side of himself every day. With reluctance he lowered the board, showing the card to Alex. Her brow furrowed and then her wide eyes grew wider.

"Turner as in _Richard_? As in your poison-happy partner Richard? Steer clear of the tea! Shit. I thought you said -"

"I was foolish to think that he wouldn't find me,"

"Shit," Alex set down her stack of cups. The open door behind them shut with the barest flick of her wrist, ensuring their privacy. "Do you think he'll come back?"

"That, I'm not foolish enough to doubt."

"You should tell Tom."

"What can Tom do about it?" Hal snapped irritably before admitting, "and he already knows."

"Tom already knows that _Richard_ was here and he's not freaking out? Either Tom is more confident in his staking abilities than we give him credit for, or he doesn't really know."

"Tom is aware a vampire came by looking for me. And we don't need to go 'freaking' him out. He's busy enough as it is."

"Oh! Like Lit 101 is more important than his best friend's bloody life? Hal - your monkey-suited comrade tried to kill us - or have you forgotten?"

"No, I haven't forgotten. Just - look, I've known Richard for a disturbingly long time. If he wanted to kill me, he wouldn't have left his business card. He wants to talk."

"Talk. Huh," Alex leveled Hal with an incredulous look. "The last time you two _talked_, I ended up busting you out of a gaffer tape beauty wrap. Come on!"

"He's gone. He's not here now. What would you have me do? Run? Go after him? He'll either get in touch or come back but either way, I don't believe he wishes harm. At least not for the first move."

Alex gave a frustrated sigh. "What _do_ you think he wants?"

Hal had that awkward way about him as he looked away, like he wished he hadn't spoken. "I gave him an opportunity when we last met. He has had time to think about it."

"An opportunity for what?"

Hal suddenly desperately needed a cup of tea. Alex had been right this morning. He should have called in sick. He set the clipboard down. He could come back to this later. He started to turn for the door.

"Hal," Alex wasn't going to let him evade her question this time.

Hand on the latch, he turned back to her. "To buy me out."

Hal didn't wait for her to ask anything else before he left the room and shut the door behind him.

Inside the housekeeping office, the telephone was ringing. Hal gave a nod to Tom, who was dicing tomatoes, as he passed through the kitchen. Hal didn't even bother speeding up; he knew the weakness in his stride would cause him to miss the call. He unlocked the door and stepped inside as the phone ended its trill. The tiny office which had at first felt so cloistered, was now a quiet retreat. Even Tom's tomatoes were abrading his senses. _Red, wet and acidic... No_. He pushed such thoughts away and set his tea down.

Before Hal could gather himself, the phone started ringing again. In a growl of frustration he reached for it across the desk, composing himself before answering, "Barry Grand, Housekeeping."

"Mr. Yorke," the voice was prim and clipped. Hal recognized the caller immediately even though they had never tried to reach them here. Until now, all contact with the Regulatory Office of Constructivism had been through the house.

"Mr. Rook," he acknowledged.

"I trust the arrangements for Miss Millar were satisfactory?"

"Yes. We returned this morning," Hal answered courteously despite the suspicion that this was more than a courtesy call. "Thank you."

"Are you aware that Richard Turner was tracked to your area yesterday?"

Rook's knowledge that Richard had been here only mildly surprised Hal. "It has been brought to my attention, yes."

"You have spoken with him then?"

"No, not since London. Why?"

"There has been... an incident. It would be best if you could visit the Archive at your earliest convenience."

"What kind of an incident?"

"I do not wish to disclose that here. We will see you soon, Mr. Yorke. Tonight, if you are able."

Hal set the phone back in it's electric cradle. Not the night prior, or even moments ago when speaking with Alex had it occurred to him the oddity of Richard's visit. His partner was not one to easily be deterred, which was one of the many reasons for his success in a cutthroat business. Only with Rook's phone call did it strike Hal as strange that Richard had come and gone so quickly. Even being a silent partner in the firm, Hal still knew that there couldn't have been that much urgent business to attend to on a Saturday.

Hal picked up the receiver and dialed the front desk, "Megan?"

"Hal," she answered brusquely.

Remembering the tone of their recent exchange, he started gently, "I apologize for earlier. I haven't slept."

"Because of your friend's funeral? You poor dear," Megan's tone brightened.

"I need to ask you about my friend who was here yesterday."

"Mr. Turner?"

Hal rolled his eyes. _Who else?_ "Did he happen to mention where he was staying?"

"Actually, funny that. He was going to stay here."

"He's _here_? Why didn't you say!"

"Well he _was_. But it was not an hour 'fore he checked out again on account of some business emergency," Megan stated, answering what Hal needed to know. "I asked if it was the room cuz he had really wanted the suite but -"

"Thank you Megan," and Hal hung up the phone. Richard had been here looking for him, was prepared to stay and wait for his return, except urgent business required his sudden but voluntary departure. _An incident,_ Rook had said. One that required Hal's return to the underground institutional warren they called the Archive. A place which he was loathe to expose himself to again.

He had only ventured the once with Alex. It had been just days after her "Men in Grey" had helped them to leave London. Alex had felt strongly that he accede to Mr. Rook's request to speak to him. Admittedly, Hal had been curious. For a shadow organization to have existed this long with the sworn purpose of keeping the supernatural world a secret? And none of his people had known about it? It was baffling, but had made a certain sense.

Upon meeting their rescuer, Hal remembered how the tinney overhead lights had exacerbated Rook's exceedingly pale colouring. It was a sign of a man who worked indoors more often than not despite his blonde complexion. Hal did not like to feel interviewed, but that wasn't why he had taken an inherent distrust of the fellow.

Rook had folded his hands upon his broad industrial desk in a deliberate attempt to set him at ease. "Are you aware of why I asked you to come?" he had asked, bluntly cutting in without small talk.

Hal twitched an eyebrow, "I gathered as much from Alex."

"Is she here?"

"Yes," Hal tilted his head to his left to where Alex was leaning against a filing cabinet. Rook's eyes followed and looked blankly for a moment before turning back to him. Alex had stuck her tongue out at him, Hal recalled. It appeared that she was right. Once again, she was invisible.

"I see," he stated, even though he clearly could not. "Mr. Yorke, your friends have already elaborated on your situation. That is not why I wished to speak with you." Hal regarded Rook, dropping into an impassive expression reflexively. Rook continued, "Your condition is quite rare."

"With Alex?" Hal hazarded. Even to the Old Ones, the _Hangori _were legendarily rare ghosts.

"We were fortunate enough to speak with her directly in that regard. It is most intriguing, but that is not quite what I meant," Rook smiled toothily and leaned forward. "You realize the only reason we crossed paths is because we expected to be dampening a fiasco in London? But you took us by surprise, Mr. Yorke."

Hal didn't respond, so Rook continued, "To have refused your nature for so long? How did you do it? And now? A shining example of control. And with _your_ past no less," Rook had smiled almost like a co-conspirator. Hal had wondered just what this man thought he knew about him. As it turned out, a lot. "In all our histories and records, we haven't come across one quite like you."

"I'm not the only vampire to form a conscience. At our very abode was another, John Mitchell."

"Yes and look what happened with that one! The Box Tunnel massacre made the press only because we let our guard down about him. It will not happen again," Rook's smile hardened. "I'm familiar with your file. You were truly an atrocious specimen. Cruelest to your own kind and merciless to prey... What changed? Was it boredom?"

Hal balked, stealing a glance at Alex. She had crossed her arms defensively over her chest and was looking at Rook open-mouthed. She caught the movement of his eyes and with surprising sympathy, tilted her head questioningly.

"In a manner of speaking... yes," Hal conceded reluctantly. Rook arched his sharp eyebrows, having not expected Hal to agree with him. He waited a moment for Hal to elaborate. When he did not, Rook shrugged with a casual smile.

"This department has a long history of studying the psychology of monsters, Type Twos in particular. We were hoping to arm ourselves with knowledge, but it was all poppycock," Rook paused, calculating Hal's expression before continuing. "There is no psychology. The very cellular nature changes, as I'm certain you know. It does not matter if the affected person was a priest, a potter, a mercenary... or a bastard son of a whore. The result is all the same."

Alex must have seen or sensed some bodily response in him at that point, for she came to stand next to him, placing a slender hand on his shoulder.

Rook had leaned forward again, taking Hal in with a piercing assessment. "You fascinate us though. Most accept their natures and maintain a fairly even keel. Yet, you oscillate from good, to bad, to worse. You know it makes the fall all the more catastrophic, yet you pursue it over and over again, to the detriment of humanity and even your very own household. Why is that, Mr. Yorke?"

"You forget that we are not alone," Hal clenched his jaw and felt Alex tense beside him.

"I have not forgotten, but you must forgive me. I merely assumed you would have told Miss Millar. You two seemed close," Rook smiled.

"Told me what Hal?" Alex's wide eyes were reluctantly curious. She pulled away and finally sat in the chair next to him, looking between him and Mr. Rook.

"She knew of the risk," Hal's voice had gone very quiet. He was more shocked than anything at what Rook seemed to be alluding to.

"And yet tragically, knowing was not enough. She met her end along with everyone else," Rook concluded with haughtiness.

Hal's breath hitched. How dare this smug little man know about _that_. _How the hell _could _he have known about that?_ This man's great-great-grandparents hadn't even been born yet. There hadn't been a trace, he had made sure of it.

In lieu of leaping across the table and strangling the smile right off the man's face, Hal asked with only mild restraint, "What do you want, Rook?" They needed to get to the point before this man unearthed any more of his skeletons.

"Two centuries gone and still strikes a nerve I see. That's encouraging I suppose," Rook's blue eyes narrowed as he seemed to consider Hal across the desk from him. Then he opened a drawer and brought out a simple flask. "We would like to prevent it from happening again. No one has to die, Hal."

Without Rook telling him Hal knew the flask contained blood, so fresh it was still warm. Even with the cap on, he could smell it.

Rook placed the flask between them on the desk. "We have programs in place. Limited, of course. But for a time now we have supplied certain informants with the means to blood. Legally."

Under the table, Alex had reached for his hand, "Hal let's go. You don't need it. You've proven that. Come on," she tugged. He resisted, remained rooted in the hard chair. Just _half _the amount of that flask would be all it would take to heal him... Hal hadn't moved, hadn't made a motion towards the temptation in the slightest, but Alex shook him. "Hal!"

"Thank you, but I must decline," Hal stated and let Alex pull him up. Rook stood as well, seemingly to rebut him, but Hal continued, "We are in your debt, so I will help your department if I am able to do so. But I cannot accept what you are offering."

The two men held locked gazes for a moment, each seemingly trying to exert his will over the other, until Rook renewed a warm smile and extended his hand. Hal hesitated before reaching across the table. The man's hand was dry and cool. "Fair enough," Rook conceded. "We will have to keep our surveillance then. You understand."

Hal nodded grimly, releasing the handshake, "Fair enough."

Afterwards, on the drive home Hal had told Alex about Sylvie. He wasn't going to. Or at least, not yet. But Alex had asked in that open way of hers, "Who was she?" Hal felt the reluctant need to answer. Still, it took him several miles before he could say it.

"Sylvie... was my wife. And... mortal. Very few knew, even then."

Alex, for once had been shocked into uncharacteristic silence. The moment stretched and Hal had started to regret telling her. This was too much of his past, too soon. But when she finally broke it, she wasn't angry. "You know, I never would have pegged you as the marrying type."

"It was customary, at the time. If one were to court a lady of her standing, eventually -"

"No, I get it. How long did it last?"

"The courtship? Or her life?"

"Both, it sounds like."

"Not long enough." But that wasn't what Alex wanted to know. After another silent mile, he admitted, "They were the longest, and simultaneously the shortest years of my life."

Alex didn't respond or needle him any further and for that he was glad. But he felt guilt. She shouldn't have had to find out this way. They had become close so quickly that it hadn't even entered his mind that he should have told her, until it was too late.

"Alex..." he felt her gaze shift from the window back to him. "I'm sorry. I should have told you sooner."

She just shook her head. "Hal, you've been around for a long-assed time. I'd be an idiot to think I was the only one to have gotten close to you." Alex never failed to surprise him. Unlike many of her generation, she was wise beyond her limited years.

Hal could count on one hand the people who knew he had killed Sylvie in the end. Alex and Mr. Rook now included. Maybe in time he could tell her more. Perhaps she had sensed that. When they returned home and Allison had asked jovially how it went, Alex spoke on his behalf. Told her and Tom it went fine. That Rook just wanted to know how Hal managed to stay clean. It wasn't long afterward that Rook's department had kept true to their word. Alex's family had been informed of her untimely passing and plans for the recently attended memorial had been set in place.

Yes, it had been a difficult couple of weeks.

It wasn't just Rook's offer he was reluctant to expose himself to again. Dominic Rook had a way about him that had lodged under Hal's skin. Using knowledge as a weapon reminded him too much of Snow, and... of himself. He was loathe to find out just what else Rook had unearthed in the Archive of vampire history.

Hal once more lifted the telephone receiver. He didn't need to refer to the card to know Richard Turner's private number. It was the same number the vampire had kept for decades, only now it was forwarded to various mobile devices. Perhaps if he just got it over with and talked with Richard, then maybe he could avoid Rook's request altogether.

Or, perhaps not.

For the first time since the invention of caller identification, Richard Turner failed to answer when Hal called.

* * *

_*For purposes of this story, the character of Sylvie is one of the few bits of canon adopted from Series 5. I laid the groundwork for someone like her from Hal's past halfway through WwaG, Ch. 25-26. And then Whimsyfox started writing her story Set You Free and I 100% FELL for her Sylvie. If you wish to know my now-in-existence headcanon about Hal & Sylvie, I strongly recommend reading Set You Free. A delightfully beautiful and heartbreaking story that is so well done you'll thank me for the recommendation. Promise_.


	5. Solidity and Sunbeams

_Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they own me. Special thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground._

_Reviews are welcome, loved and encourage prompter updates._

* * *

Glancing down the corridor to ensure he was alone, Hal gave the customary trio of knocks, then used his master key to enter the suite. The door had been locked. Alex had no need for keys.

She was tugging on a pillowcase, the pillow levitating out in front of her when he came in. If someone else were to enter - another one of the staff - without his signal she would vanish. Thus far, there hadn't been need. Hal kept a clear schedule matrix.

He crossed the room to where she was working, noting the open window behind her. The air felt fresh with the sun-warmed salt breeze. A gull cried nearby. She had removed her jacket, exposing the bare skin of her shoulders and chest.

"Hey sugar," she greeted but kept on tucking in the pillow. She was still ruffled about earlier.

"I need to talk to you," Hal stated, standing opposite the bed.

"So talk," Alex placed the first pillow and levitated the second over from the stack of linens on the nearby table. Hal eyed the freshly-made bed, surprised at how tempted he was to lie down.

"Rook telephoned," he stated bluntly. "They are aware Richard was here. He wishes to meet regarding an incident he couldn't speak of over the line."

"Today?" Alex asked. Hal nodded the affirmative. "Well that will be just lovely fun on top of everything else. I'll come with you."

Hal was relieved she understood so quickly. Returning to the Archive was a return to Rook's offer. Hal didn't like feeling reliant, or even directly asking for help. But he had to admit that Alex continued to be instrumental in his fight against temptation, even if she herself was included in those temptations.

"Is that clean?" He asked despite knowing it was.

"Yeah, course," Alex replied.

"Good," Hal threw back the duvet and sat down with a sigh. He was damned tired.

Alex finally stopped what she was doing and flopped onto the bed next to him. Surprisingly, she had that mischievous grin of hers. Before he could even protest she kissed him. "You're on lunch now, right?" She asked against his mouth.

"Mmph. Yes, but -"

"Good. You need a nap," she asserted. His protest was smothered by another enthusiastic kiss as she straddled his lap. "Mmm, you taste like tea."

"Alex -" but he couldn't finish the thought. She was untucking his shirt, sliding her hands up to the bare skin of his stomach. His response was immediate. He groaned.

"Take off your shoes," she whispered, her breath warm on his neck.

"Half the night and this morning wasn't enough? Jesus woman."

"It'll never be enough," she said huskily, pushing his suit jacket off his shoulders. Against his better judgment, reason was rapidly leaving.

"Alex -" he moaned but tried to push her away. "Not at work."

"Hal come on, lighten up! I've wanted to do this since you were hired," she admitted and renewed her fervor in kissing him. Hal's hands were stroking the smooth silk over the curves of her waist almost against his will.

"But we weren't doing _any_ of this yet."

"I know," she pivoted her hips in a way that made a growl escape his throat and his hands move to the ribbon of her dress. Their clothes were gone in a matter of seconds.

It was times like these, when the urge to be as close as they physically could overrode all other thoughts, that Hal wondered if sex with Alex, or Alex herself, had truly become a new addiction to add to his list. It had all gotten so tangled. He no longer knew what was the pull of her blood versus the amore of emotion he felt for her. In that moment, with sunlight boldly streaming in to illuminate her skin as he moved in her, Hal didn't care.

Leaning into him, she stifled his moan with a kiss. "Shush," she breathed. "Wouldn't do... to be heard..." she whispered. She had a point, except no one could hear a ghost. Hal smiled wickedly and switched his efforts to elicit such illicit sounds teased from _her_ lips. He was quite successful. The noise she made at their climax was deliciously primal, whereas Hal had to bite down on his lip.

He held her to his chest as they came down, the gulls bearing the only sounds once more. With the weight of her, and the warm sunlight, the pull of sleep was a heavy thing to fight. He stroked the long line of her spine in an attempt to stay awake. "I'll have to order extra lamp bulbs if we keep this up," he muttered into her hair. She had burnt one out overhead.

"Mmm..." she lifted her head to look at him with a contented smile. "There's time if you want to sleep. I'll wake you."

Hal knew that he needed to. He kissed her softly and accepted, "Okay."

Alex snuggled against him, holding her warmth to his torso with his head tucked under her chin. She could feel the weight of his fatigue pulling them down but she resisted it. Instead she glanced at the clock to gauge the time, and let her thoughts drift. Gazing out the window at the few passing clouds, she idly stroked his stomach. His face relaxed. He had already drifted into dreaming, she could tell by the barest twitch behind his eyelids. It should be criminal for a man to have such long lashes as he did. She couldn't believe he had let her get away with this. She thoroughly expected to be refused. _They were in trouble, big time._ Now that she got him to agree here once... Alex smiled. It was undeniable. He was softening with her. Trusting her, opening to her. She loved him all the more for it.

She didn't want anything to change it. Earlier, when he had told her about Richard she had felt so fiercely protective. Why couldn't they just leave him be? Why couldn't the world just leave _them_ be? Alex had a sinking feeling that between Richard's reappearance and Rook's insistence that Hal talk to him about it, something was going to change, and soon. It filled her with dread.

She woke Hal with enough time to have a shower. Returning to work smelling like he did would _not _diffuse the advances of their female co-workers. As he gathered his garments that had gotten surprisingly strewn, she couldn't help that her eyes were drawn to the angry red line across his thigh. Two weeks and the burn still looked god awful. He had admitted that he wasn't sure if it would ever heal, as long as he remained dry. The last burn he had received from Tom's blood hadn't. At least he had perfected making a limp look sexy, she thought as he left for the shower.

Alex stood and pulled the sheets from the bed as the water came on. She'd have to replace them. Stepping into a sunbeam from the open window, she reveled in the sense of warmth on her bare skin. In moments like this she felt so completely solid, it was easy to forget she wasn't to anyone else but him. She sauntered to the bath and carefully pulled the curtain aside. His back was to her as he rinsed, steam and spray rising. The water dulled his senses and she didn't think he had heard her approach. Alex crept past the curtain, feeling the spray but not being affected by it. She wrapped her arms over his shoulders and pressed her breasts into his back. Hal didn't say anything, didn't rebut her, merely leaned against her, a hand coming up to cup her arm. The water poured between them like she wasn't there at all. Saddened she still wasn't as solid as she felt, she placed a kiss on the damp skin at the back of his neck before teleporting away. Like a permanent reset, her clothes - from her boots to her bra - reappeared in perfect order. The water turned off and Alex went about stripping the pillowcases she had just put on while he dressed.

At the door, she straightened his collar even though he didn't need it. Except for his lips that were delightfully swollen from kissing, he looked impeccable as always. "Meet me here after your shift?"

"I was going to drive," he answered sleepily.

"In daylight? It will take you ages! Now that we've been there once I can teleport us."

Hal rubbed his face with a sigh, "Alex, you know how I feel about that. Besides, it's Rook's request. If I cause a traffic accident or a heart attack because someone failed to see me in a mirror, it's on his department to deal with."

"Yeah, but I also know you need more than a twenty minute disco nap. If I teleport us then we can be there and back again in time for a mildly normal evening."

He looked like he was forming an argument so she stepped in and kissed him, "Just think on it, okay? I'll tidy up our love nest here and see you later, alright?"

Hal leaned his forehead against hers, closing his eyes. "Okay," he agreed.

* * *

The library at Cardiff Law left much to be desired if one was seeking anything other than Law. They hardly had a decent literature section, much less books on the supernatural, which is how Allison Larkin continually found herself at Cardiff Central library between classes. Today, she was seated in the reader's lounge with her laptop. The rustle of newspages and the clickety-clack of other computer users was a peaceful accompaniment to the sunbeam she was enjoying while she worked.

She had begun the project even before her first transformation had confirmed her suspicions. Something had attacked her that she couldn't debate, rationalize or ignore during her Duke of Edinburgh's Award camping expedition. The creature had sideswiped her and knocked her down like she was no more than an irritation. One bloody shoulder and a broken pair of glasses was all she suffered. One un-blurred glance was all she had before the beast was gone, loping off into the darkness. No one had been with her to corroborate her story. No one had been with her to confirm that what she_ thought_ she saw had been real. So she had played it off. Patched herself up with her first aid kit, using all her sterile wipes and claimed she stumbled while gathering firewood. And then, as soon as she returned home she began looking for an explanation as to what she had seen. "Just to be safe" she had spirited away that first full moon, still disbelieving until the first gut-clenching spasm of the transformation took over. Afterwards, her research had been to find an explanation for what she had become.

Her introduction and subsequent involvement with Honolulu Heights hadn't deterred her one bit. Tom and Hal had both taught her much about their world, but Allison knew it wasn't the whole story. In the months since she had been turned, she had become a collector - a connoisseur if it were - of supernatural leads, rumors and dead-ends. If anything, the dead ends were even more fascinating now that she knew of the work Mr. Rook and his department oversaw. She had sent him a message requesting scholarly access to the archive. Thus far, he had neglected to get back to her.

On her computer, she had scanned, saved and categorized over 200 news articles, mentions and rumors of potential werewolf activity. It was global. Their contagion was spread worldwide, each area having its own name and mythology to explain the phenomena. Lycanthrope, Skinwalker, Wendigo, Loup-garou, Mannaro, Nahaul, Lobisomem - she had hunted down stories on them all. But their kind in whatever name seemed to be scattered, generally lone incidents here and there and sparse.

With the oddly curious exception of Brazil. The Lobisomem, which merely translated to 'werewolf' in Portuguese, were often referred to as "them," "they" and "Pack". They were even rumoured to have their own city. Joanópolis was openly known as the supposed "Capital of the Werewolf" with more recorded sightings than any other location she had come across. The stories began circulating in frequency about a pack of man-sized wolves in the jungle. The stories had appeared mysteriously and, after only a decade, had petered off and disappeared again. Almost as if a werewolf pack had at some point broken away from the modern world to disappear into the jungles, never to be heard from again. Allison had been fascinated, but had stored it away in her archive of stories along with the rest. The closer she became to Tom however, the more she had realized just how much of his life had been spent looking for such a pack. So she had renewed her curiosity.

Making use of one of her favorite Google tools, she had been able to roughly translate a recent article citing an "eyewitness" account of the Lobisomem. With a name like Vinicius Emanuel da Rocha Batista, Allison had easily tracked him down. A young historian and folklorist for the area, his claim that he had caught a glimpse of the wolves was actually quite suspect. No one had believed him. One online commenter even accused him of being in the pocket of the local tourist board. So when Allison had contacted him with an email in passable Portuguese citing a scholarly interest that accompanied her own sighting, she hoped he would be intrigued enough reply.

_Saudações. Estou muito curioso para ouvir da sua conta._

Even without translating the brief email, Allison nearly broke the sanctity of library silence with a yip of excitement. Her query had been returned!


	6. The Department Makes a Request

_Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they own me. Special thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground. _

_Reviews are welcome, loved and encourage prompter updates. And now, with help from TJ4ev and whimsyfox, I give you my first reveal..._

* * *

Birdsong cut off abruptly when Hal & Alex appeared. They were in front of the rusty old container door that disguised the entrance to the Archive. The birds didn't like teleporting vampires any more than he did, Hal thought.

"Shit. What do we do, knock? You didn't have an exact appointment," Alex stated. They both glanced up to the tiny camera that couldn't see either of them.

"You could have brought us directly inside."

"Oh, and give some poor bloke a heart attack?"

"Knocking then," Hal conceded, but Alex was already gone. If there had been a guard, they would have been quite startled. She opened the door for him from the inside. Her grin lit up her face.

The first person they encountered was Mike Nave. The newest member of the Regulatory Office of Constructivism was carrying a file in one hand and a fresh cup of strong-smelling coffee in the other. He stopped in his tracks, startled, "Hal! You're... uh, how did you -"

"We let ourselves in. Apologies," Hal answered politely before Nave finished.

Nave paused, looking at the empty space next to Hal. "Alex, hello." Alex smiled at his attempt to be courteous to someone he couldn't see. "I meant how did you get here?" Nave continued, "We're expecting you, but your car hasn't moved since this morning... I was supposed to alert Mr. Rook when you were on your way..." Hal raised an eyebrow.

"They're _still _tracking the car?" Alex said. "And we're the ones who are supposed to be creepy..."

Hal didn't feel like explaining the wonders of rent-a-ghosting for Nave. All he wanted was to get this over with and go home. "Well you can alert him now. He is in his office, I presume?"

"Yeah, go on then," Nave waved down the corridor beyond them with the file he was holding. He still couldn't get past the fact that Hal Yorke was far more ancient than most vampires they encountered. It was unnerving. With Hal's departure Nave tucked the file under his arm and reached for the nearest internal phone, "Sir? They're here."

Rook was seated at his desk and expecting them when his office door opened. Noting that the door had closed on its own accord a pause after Hal entered, he greeted, "Mr. Yorke. Miss Millar."

Hal crossed the room and sat down. Alex did the same, scuffing the chair rudely as a return acknowledgment of her presence. "Mr. McNair and Miss Larkin? I trust that they are well?"

"They're both in class, as I'm certain you know," Hal stated without veiling his irritation.

"Excellent," Rook ignored the barb. "I'm glad everyone is adjusting so well."

"What couldn't you say on the telephone?" Hal pushed to the point.

"You traveled here unconventionally," Rook stated, ignoring Hal's attempt to steer the conversation. "I had wondered if you could still do that. Miss Millar informed us that was how you escaped the bomb at Stokers."

"You couldn't ask me over the phone about rent-a-ghosting?" Hal was getting exasperated. His temper ran short when it came to Rook.

Alex put a hand on his arm, "Maybe we should have driven. Sorry Hal."

Rook watched Hal listen to the ghost and smiled, "It simply makes matters more convenient. The Department needs your help, but allocating your travel could look questionable at the moment."

"Travel?" Alex perked up with the prospect and Hal merely raised an eyebrow.

"You need you to visit the Outer Hebrides."

"The fuck we do?" Alex asked.

"Excuse me, why?" Hal narrowed his eyes at Rook.

Rook pushed his chair away from the desk and stood with his hands behind his back. "Your colleague was called away because at seven-hundred hours yesterday morning, there was an incident. The club near your office, one of your firm's older holdings in London, was bombed."

Hal furrowed his brow, but before he could even ask Rook opened one of the files from atop his desk. In it was a spread of photographs. Stone, rubble and brick, a blackened hole, a railroad tie violently impaled through the street. Alex recognized what was left of the railway arch from their trip to Crucifix Lane.

"Due to the hour of the incident, no one was hurt. At least, no bodies have yet been found. You know as well as I do that wasn't merely a music club."

Hal was flipping through the pictures. It looked as if the bomb was set off underground. When Hal finally spoke, all he said was, "They took out the ring."

"Yes. And this wasn't the first." Rook seated himself once more at his desk, folding his hands neatly upon it. "Six weeks ago, a warehouse in Sheffield met a mysterious end. And then, another in Derby. Just after we relocated you back to Barry, an isolated quadrant of the Clifton Rocks Railway imploded in Bristol."

"They're all dogfight rings," Hal recognized.

"Yes. We know. Our intelligence points to at least two other incidents. One in Bolivia, and another in Brazil. All within the last ten weeks."

"Werewolves," Hal stated.

"Certainly. What reason would vampires have to be targeting their own properties? Now, we know your household was not involved. You were... detained for most of the past occurrences."

"Why wasn't I told about this? Surely Richard..."

"Because we're very good at our jobs, Mr. Yorke. I doubt your partner knew, until now. He has been rather preoccupied as well, you see."

"Why would anyone have told you Hal?" Alex asked.

Rook observed Hal pause and look to his left. "They are Turner and Yorke properties, Alex. Old One investments."

"You invested in _dogfight _rings?" She asked incredulously. Hal met her eyes, then looked away. There were many things in his past he wasn't proud of and the operation of dogfights was certainly one of them. Especially after having known and earned both Leo's friendship, and now Tom's.

"The Bermondsey bombing, as they're now calling it I might add, is a little too public for us. It has been an inter-departmental nightmare. You see, most of the other agencies are not aware of our work," Rook leaned forward. "This incident already had Interpol, Special Branch and City Public Works involved before we could be on the scene. Our hands are tied."

Hal was quiet, thinking through everything Rook had told them. "Richard - he will be implicated?"

"Mr. Turner already has been. Or else, it is just a matter of time. We are doing what we can, but Special Branch _will_ connect the dots to the other properties. Richard will be questioned, possibly detained. You are aware we cannot allow that to happen."

"Richard has a front for the company - a spokesman. In the event of matters such as these -"

"The one who passed away in 2010? Hal, I daresay you are behind the times. Mr. Turner has been too preoccupied or too complacent to find a suitable replacement. Things do look quite bad. Shit has hit the proverbial fan." Rook said it casually, like this were an everyday occurrence. "We may not have a choice but to remove Richard from the picture. And unfortunately, to add insult to injury, Stokers fits the profile as well. The explosions were caused by the same propellant." Rook let the implication that this could come back to Tom lay silent.

"I find it hard to believe there is nothing else you can do," Hal replied.

"Without risking the exposure of my entire department and therefore our very mission? No. All we can hope to do is to find and implicate the Type Three's who are actually responsible for these attacks."

"Shit. Holy Mission Impossible, Batman," Alex enthused sarcastically. "I still don't get what the upper reaches of Scotland has to do with it though."

"Alex wants to know what the Hebrides has to do with it," Hal translated.

"Ah yes. This is where your unique position comes in. We have reason to suspect the Brazilians. They are the only congregating order of their Type that we are aware of, and quite furtive. One of them recently defected from their pack and relocated to the western Isle of Harris. We need you to speak to him. Find out what he knows. If anyone asks, you will be visiting Yvonne Bradshaw on Grimsay. It is public knowledge she sought refuge at Honolulu Heights so that should -"

"What on earth makes you think this werewolf will talk to me?" Hal interrupted Rook's scheming. "Wouldn't Tom have better luck?" Hal wasn't overly eager for any of this to begin with.

"Because Hal, the Brazilian is the partner of an old friend of yours."

"That I doubt. Most of my old friends are dead."

"Even Mr. Corinth?"

"Carl..." Hal looked disbelieving, "Carl's _alive_?"

"As much as we can call any of your kind."

"This is all well and good, but he's missing one problem." Alex interjected. "I can only rent-a-ghost that far if I've been there. And I've never been to any of the Hebrides. Inner or Outer."

Hal, recovering from shock over his friend, relayed "Alex has a point. She can only teleport to places she's been."

"How far north can she travel then? We will arrange for a car to be waiting."

Hal stood abruptly, shocking both Rook and Alex. "I need to think about this."

"Mr. Yorke, time is of the essence," Rook stood as well.

"I'm aware of that, _Mr._ Rook. But I don't work for you."

"No. You don't. You work in _housekeeping_."

Hal clenched his jaw and felt Alex take his hand. "As do you, Dominic. Good bye."

Hal turned to go, pulling free from Alex's grasp. She glanced back at Rook. His face was turning red with anger. "Hal, but what if we can help?" She asked, following him.

"I'm sure we could. However if I don't leave right now _someone _is going to get hurt," Hal muttered.

He was through the door when Rook shouted after them, "This affects all of us! You have a responsibility. Hal!"

Hal was already halfway down the corridor.

* * *

Outside the sky was aglow through the trees. Hal left the containment of the Archive and kept walking. Alex was quick to catch up to him and reached for his hand. He pulled away again, tapping his fingers in a quick pattern.

"Just - give me a moment. Please."

Alex hung back, but gently asked, "Bloodlust?"

Hal snorted, "No, for once." His stalking pace started to slow. "I'm merely hacked off." Hal took a deep breath. The container was already out of sight. They could be anywhere in the woods. "I don't enjoy being manipulated. Rook -"

"Is doing his job."

Hal didn't say anything to that, just continued to even his breathing and tap his fingers while he gazed out at the trees. Alex glanced back the way they had come. The forest was quiet without any sign of pursuit from Rook. She returned her gaze to Hal's fidgety stance and tried again. "Look - I really couldn't give a rat's crease what happens to Richard. But what about Tom? What about _you_? He was there - we all were."

"Tom isn't involved in this. There is no evidence to connect -"

"And you don't care that they're blowing up your ring-whatevers?"

"No, actually. I really don't." Hal took a deep breath and returned his gaze to her. "I know that we are in that man's debt. That's fine. A favour is one thing. But don't you see? This is more than a favour. This is us getting _involved _again. In exactly what we're all trying to avoid."

"Hal," she scoffed at him. Actually scoffed. "You _are_ involved."

His barely-under-control temper flared again, but he dampened it. She was right. And his anger wasn't with her. "I know," he agreed finally.

"Aren't you the least bit curious?" Alex asked. She sure was.

"About Carl? I haven't seen him in over a century. And I doubt he'll be too keen to see me. Rook thinks we have an in, but it's really not much of one. Especially if he's with a werewolf..."

"But if what Rook said was true, this could lead to the exposure of the supernatural world. Isn't that bad? Isn't that precisely what we stopped the Old Ones from doing?"

"The Old Ones wanted to rule the world, not merely destroy its mythology. But yes, it would be bad," Hal concurred. He resumed walking and was contemplative for a few paces. Alex kept pace with him. "We can't go to the Hebrides though. Even with teleporting back to Glasgow, it will take too much time. The hotel has its challenges, but it's a slice of normality for me. I'd rather not lose it, honestly."

"You know, I've been thinking about that."

"You seemed to be enjoying the perks today."

She slapped him lightheartedly on the arm, "Not the hotel." Hal must be calming down if he could throw a dig at her. "About how we'd get to Harris."

"And?"

"Well, you've been there, right?"

"I've been to Grimsay, but not Harris."

"But Grimsay is a helluva lot closer than Glasgow."

"I fail to see your point."

"Rent-a-ghosting..." Alex tried to explain it in way that could carry what she was thinking. "There's a little more to it than just 'if you can picture it you can be there'. It's kind of like playing make-believe. Like in Peter Pan how the Lost Boys were always full because they could imagine a feast laid out before them every night?"

"You've lost me. How would J.M. Barrie have known anything about it?"

"We're linked, right? I can sometimes feel what you feel, you always know right where I am," Alex stated, linking her arm through his. He nodded but still remained perplexed. Alex launched into the meat of her idea. "I wonder, if you concentrated hard enough, pictured it fully, if we could rent-a-ghost somewhere I've never been, but _you_ have."

Hal pulled free of her arm, stopped walking. "No. Never in a thousand years. Teleporting is horrendous enough without throwing psychic experimentation into the mix."

"But you saw me at the club - if I don't get it right I don't go anywhere. Nothing happens."

"Or, you could get it half-right and I'll be the lucky one who ends up splinched like in those wizard books Pearl loved."

"Pearl read _Harry Potter_?" Alex guffawed. She never met the woman but from Tom's description of the pert and controlling ghost, she just couldn't picture it. "We could practice first? There has to be somewhere around here you've been to and I haven't."

"That I highly doubt. And no."

"Do you have any better ideas?"

"Certainly. How about we tell Rook to bugger off?"

"Or, we could do this for him. Get to Harris some conventional way, find out what this werewolf knows and then we're done with him. We won't owe Rook the time of day after that."

"Do you really think it could be that simple?" Hal said, asking sarcastically. "I wasn't cognizant when he arranged for our travel out of London, so you may have a better understanding of his motives than I. But I doubt Rook is the type to let sleeping dogs lie. No pun intended."

"After we find out what he needs to know, what more could he want from you? From any us?"

"It doesn't matter what he wants. It's what he'll do to get it that concerns me. He has far more knowledge and power over our household for than I'd like."

"Yeah, but is there anything at all we can do about it?" Alex asked and Hal didn't answer. "At least if we show a good faith attempt, then maybe Rook will leave us alone."

Hal resumed walking and was thoughtful for several moments. The evening birdsong and the crunch of newly-fallen leaves underfoot were the only sounds. He broke the silence by uttering with painful reluctance, "The Trading Post."

"The what?" Alex was startled out of her own thoughts of trying to recall other Northern locales she had visited.

"The pawn shop where Tom & I found the ring Leo wanted. You couldn't have been there. It closed."

"Oh - so you want to give it a go then?"

"No, I rather wouldn't. However... our options are dwindling. And I see your point," Hal offered his hand to her. "Good faith effort."

"Now?" Alex took both his hands in hers and looked unsure. He nodded. But now that he had agreed, doubts began to echo through her. God - what if she _could _hurt him? Or get them stuck in between somewhere? The thought hadn't crossed her mind. Teleporting with Hal was no different than teleporting with anything else. Just a simple matter of moving from one spot, to another.

He noticed her hesitation and tilted his head, "What must I do?"

"Um... just picture it in every detail you can I suppose..."

"That's all?"

"Yeah... but - we don't have to do this. Maybe there's another way?"

He squeezed her hands, "Perhaps. However, if it works it _is_ an intriguing idea."

Alex sighed and bit her lip. She kept his gaze, her silhouette reflected in his eyes against the filtered light as she stepped close. She moved her right hand to wind through his hair, and to pull his forehead to hers. "Okay," she whispered. This was her grand idea, she better give as much of a good faith effort as he. "Build a picture in your mind. Not just where, but colour, texture, the layout of the room, everything you can think of."

Hal placed his free hand loosely around her shoulders, mimicking her stance. Then with one last questioning look, he nodded, closed his eyes. Alex did the same, tuning her focus into trying to "taste" from him. At first, there was nothing. Light was dappling through the darkness of her vision, distant birdsong peppering her ears. The wind stirred, and she sensed a deep note of allure. A scent so rich, so tantalizing… with a start she realized; _How she smelled to him._ She became aware that she was sipping off his other senses; the birdsong felt startlingly closer, the wind in the upper branches was near melodic in how it whispered. Underneath her scent were others; the musky fur of an animal detected further away, deer perhaps; soil, composting leaves, concrete beneath them. And beneath all of the sounds, subtle and unequivocally loud all at once, pulsed her very own heartbeat. Alex heard her breath catch in the _overwhelm _of it all, and she almost broke contact.

But then an image started to form. From a pinprick of sepia growing outwards, the image spread like a reveal of watercolour. _Like the credits on Robert Downey JR's Sherlock..._ she thought. The room came into focus. Walls, floor, counter, the way the light from the storefront pierced and filtered, and with it, that teasing sense of _place_ she needed.

With a building excitement, Alex _got it_. And then they were gone.


	7. Ripples on a Lake

_Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they own me. Special thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground.  
Beta __assistance from TJ4ev and Whimsyfox enables (most of) my grammar to pass muster for Hal. _Reviews are welcome, loved and encourage prompter updates.  


* * *

The change in air confirmed they had appeared _somewhere_. The forest had been cool, breezy. _Here_ was sequestered, and startlingly stuffy. Alex opened her eyes to see the absolute shock on Hal's face.

"You didn't think it was really going to work," she grinned a haughty taunt. "And it totally fucking worked!" She kissed him gleefully and then let go to look around. There were boards up over the glass storefront, but light was peeking through the cracks. Hal shook his head, trying to clear it and checked himself. _Everything seemed to be accounted for..._

"Is this it? This isn't what you showed me," Alex was craning her neck left and right to look around. The room was empty with only a display case covered in dust, empty shelves, and sun shadows on the wall where things used to be hung.

Hal felt like Alex hadn't just merely teleported them, but shocked him somehow in the process. His head was pounding to the rhythm of her heartbeat and he felt his fatigue momentarily wash over him. When he opened his mouth to speak, the movement of his jaw made his ears pop as if they had suddenly descended from a great height. He wasn't certain, but elevation-wise, they may have done just that. She reached for his arm with growing concern, "Shite - you're okay, right?"

He took a steadying breath. It was all quickly passing. "This is it. They must have sold everything when it closed. And yes, I'm all here it would seem."

Alex, relieved he was okay, said with renewed excitement, "This is incredible! You know what this means? We can go anywhere! You've been all over, right? Oh! You've been to _Paris!_"

"Alex, please," he waved a hand for her to stop moving so much. Leaning against the counter he looked around them and sighed. They wouldn't be able to leave via the front since it was boarded up. He wondered if there was another door. "Places I've been - it was half a century ago or more. Too much has changed. I knew this would be empty, but you can't have me appearing out of nowhere in front of people. How would that even work?"

Her face fell, but she pressed on, "We'd figure something out, I think." Her excitement dropped as she came over, leaning an elbow on the counter next to him. "It'll still work for Grimsay though, right?"

"Perhaps. I'll need to reflect on my memories of there. It's remote enough I should be able to think of an appropriate place..." he admitted wearily with a sigh. "But not tonight. I need to go home."

Alex straightened and tried to hook her arms around his waist, but he held up a hand in protest. "Walking would be preferable, if you don't mind."

"What about the car?" Alex asked.

"Tomorrow. We'll fetch it tomorrow," Hal straightened and eyed the corridor that led to the back room. He could see light under the bottom of the door. "This way."

* * *

Allison had kicked off her shoes. With her rainbow striped socks curled under her on the sofa she was leaning quite contentedly against Tom. Before heading back to class that afternoon she had emailed a response to Vinicius, detailing what she saw without mentioning just how _close_ her encounter had been. She had asked about his own sighting and if he truly had seen a "pack" of the Lobisomem, since her experience and research had pointed only to the solitary wolf. Allison was eager to share it all with Tom, but had decided to wait until she had some kind of confirmation that there still was a pack in existence. Maybe, eventually they could travel to meet their fellow wolves.

Allison smiled at the thought of them taking a real holiday together someday, and leaned into Tom. Most evenings it had become their routine to snuggle on the sofa while studying. Unlike most evenings, however, tonight was the rare occurrence of having the house entirely to themselves. Tom was taking full advantage of the fact by massaging her shoulders whilst pressing himself suggestively into her backside, which proved to be quite the distraction. She set aside her _Foundations of Legal Knowledge _coursework on the cushion, giving Tom her full attention. She enjoyed his polite ministrations for a brief moment before turning to catch him in a surprise kiss. His beautiful eyes still sought approval before he would touch her more brazenly. She kissed him again, fully this time and he finally caved.

They were involved in quite the enthusiastic snog session, her hands on the button and zip of Tom's trousers and his completely underneath her jumper, when steps on the front walk froze them both. In a fluster they righted themselves. Allison pressed herself against Tom's lap once more to hide certain excitements, retrieved her book, and tried to to appear composed. The door opened and Alex entered, followed by Hal. He paused to drop his keys into the dish at the bar with a clatter.

"Heya guys," Alex greeted, perching on a barstool. Hal leaned against the bar beside her.

Tom pointedly looked between the both of them, and then at the shiny gold clock on the wall. "Why you home so late?" It wasn't normal for them to miss supper without a note. Hal glanced at the floor before meeting his eyes, and Tom caught something in his friend's demeanor that made him sit up a little straighter. "What happened then? Waz wrong?"

Alex could sense Hal's reluctance. They hadn't really thought about what they would tell their friends. Rook hadn't said not to, but he also hadn't included them in his plans. "The Regulatory Office is already calling in their favour," Hal started. "Rook has asked me to do something for him."

"Is it something to do with that vampire t'was here?" Tom asked, ever astute.

"If only it were that simple," Hal sighed, and then he told them all of it. From Richard Turner's business card, to Rook knowing about the visit, which confirmed his presence.

Through the recounting of the bombings and the mission they were tasked with, Allison had a thoughtful but distant look as she swiftly dredged through it all. This confirmed what she had already been investigating! However, she was quite surprised to learn of such systematic destruction from a supposed invisible pack. She was about to enquire if Rook had mentioned anything further about the bombing in Brazil, but noticed a shift in Tom. His face had fallen from concerned puzzlement into a scowl, his brows knitted together sharply. He had remained leaning into the corner of the sofa with her while they listened but at Hal's conclusion, he shook his head and looked away. When he looked back, he was visibly angry.

"You owned dogfight rings," Tom stated sullenly, before lifting his chin to Hal. "Were you ever goin'ta actually tell me? And all those threats from the chair? You really could have..."

"You know that's not me. Not now," Hal rebutted calmly. "And, I don't anymore. Not personally anyway."

"Why didn't you _say_?" Tom stood up, startling Allison. He shook his head as he tried to suppress a rapidly growing rage, his fists clenching at his sides.

"It was in the past, Tom. I didn't think you wanted to know the details."

"Yeah, but **dogfights** Hal?!" Tom full on shouted.

"What does it matter now? They're getting blown up! Which, I would have thought was a favour!" Hal raised his voice in frustration and then stopped. He closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. Tom had every right to be angry.

Tom had gone very quiet as he watched Hal compose himself. Both Allison and Alex were eerily silent as well, sensing that the strain of tight tension between the two friends was enough to slit a throat on.

When Tom spoke again, his quiet words were almost more threatening. "McNair was turned in a dogfight," he stated simply. Hal met Tom's eyes with dread filling his stomach. Tom looked at him plainly and continued, "Yeh. One of the rare humans that lived to walk away. But not unscratched."

"I'm sorry Tom. I didn't know," Hal stated, feeling the weakness of his apology. He understood the breadth of Tom's anger now. If Hal was responsible for the dogfights, then in turn he was responsible for McNair, even if indirectly. Which meant indirectly, Hal was _also_ responsible for Tom. Like ripples on a lake, the transgressions of his past continued outward far beyond the original impact of his deeds. How could he ever make this right? _He couldn't._

Hal struggled to at least explain, "I didn't mean to keep it from you. It just... was no longer relevant to my life. I walked away from that - from all of it. I staged my own death to help Leo escape, but it was my escape as well. We managed to get away and then I was free of it. I thought they would shut down after my disappearance. For a while, they did. I'm sorry Tom."

Tom looked at Hal a long time, his expressive eyebrows mashed together. When he finally spoke his tone was softer than his words. "Sorry don't make it right." Tom brushed past him, grabbed his coat and was out the door before any of them could stop him.

Hal watched through the window as Tom took off running up the street. Watched as Allison leapt after him, shouting his name in her striped stockings from their steps. Tom kept running.

* * *

He ran until he didn't recognize where he was. He ran until his lungs burned and his legs screaming in protest drowned out everything else. It felt wicked good.

More and more, Tom felt like a little paper boat getting battered by a storm. One thing after another and his direction no longer clear. He was spinning against things he couldn't control. Hal's revelation shouldn't have bothered him so much, but it did. How could he have kept such a monumental thing concealed? _Weren't they friends?_ Tom felt betrayed more than anything. How could he have been so blind?

Hal had told him, in small ways he supposed. Tom knew that he had freed Leo from a dogfight. Which meant Hal had to have been in a position to get close to the fight victims in the first place. And in London, when he and Allison were held captive - Hal knew right where they were. He owned a storage bay on the very same street!

More than anything, Tom felt foolish. _Stupid_. Which he was feeling a lot of these days. He wasn't cut out for book learning. Allison tried to help, and she _did_ help, even with her already full-time course load. She was the one part of his life that Tom wasn't confused about. He loved her more than anything. But Tom still felt drastically overwhelmed with just how much he didn't know. Basic, simple stuff everyone learns as kids continually hid revelations for him. His learning leaned towards survival - not spelling and grammar. He wasn't stupid, just woefully unprepared. But even knowing that didn't make sitting in class any easier.

Tom had made it all the way down to the warehouses past the docks. The lights had gotten further apart, and hardly any traffic interrupted his run. Due to the circling thoughts he had been lost in, it took him a moment to recognize the subtle echo of his footfalls as not _actually_ an echo.

Matching his stride step for step, Tom was being followed.

* * *

Hal was reading _Ulysses_. At least, he was trying to. Joyce's dry words did nothing to break past the stormy thoughts of guilt and worry over his friend. It had been hours and Tom had not returned. Eventually, Allison changed her mind about waiting for Tom to 'run it off and come back', had donned her shoes and shoulder bag, and driven out to look for him. Alex was obviously torn about leaving Hal, but he had encouraged her to go. She could rent-a-ghost and check places Allison couldn't from the car. It went unspoken that Hal should remain.

He heard them come in downstairs, Allison's voice was weary and Alex's response too soft to make out. Tom was not with them. Hal gave up the pretense of the book, set it down beside him, and was rubbing his temples when Alex appeared.

"You alright?" she asked.

The question startled him in its absurdity. He met her eyes and answered her with an unrestrained, sharp barb of self-loathing, "I'm a dogfighting mass murderer who ruined my best friend's life before he was even born. Why should I be alright?"

Alex swallowed, hesitated briefly, then came to sit beside him on the sofa anyways. "It wasn't your fault," she put her hand over his. "You were in Southend. You had nothing to do with -"

"I turned a blind eye on all of it. I had my little world and that was all I cared about. I should have put an end to it."

"Could you have? Really though?"

Hal was silent. When he spoke again it was with remorse. "Richard never had the political clout to change anything. Besides, he wouldn't have wanted to. Richard has always been a servant to his own personal gain, and the fights were big business."

"So really, the fact that they kept going could be pinned on Richard."

"I didn't tell him not to."

She turned over his hand, linked her fingers through his. "You don't want Rook to stop the bombings, do you..."

Hal huffed with admission, "No. I applaud them, whomever they are. It's about time the Werewolf Army reformed. If it weren't for the potential exposure they will bring."

"Wait - the what? There was a werewolf _army_?"

"A long time ago, open space was more plentiful and their numbers were greater. Packs were common. We -" Hal caught himself, "the vampires hunted them down. Snow's rule was ruthless. The fights grew out of that, and the Army grew out of the war between us."

"Jaysus. Does Tom know about all that?"

"I don't think he and McNair ever found much of a pack until George and Nina, and they hardly count. The more their numbers dwindled, the more werewolf history was erased. Most live quietly solo these days, like Leo did."

Alex was stunned into silence, but she didn't let go of Hal's hand. Her pulse between them was a present steadiness. He closed his eyes, leaning his head on the back of the sofa. The lamplight made the dark shadows that smudged under his eyes all the more pronounced.

"You need to sleep," she said gently. It all was a lot to process, and she could ask him questions all night. But her care for him outweighed her curiosity. He didn't answer her so she stood, tugging at him to follow her. Hal tilted his head wearily against the sofa and looked up at her. "Come on," she prodded. With a reluctant sigh, he stood and let her lead him across the room.

The tasks of unbuttoning his shirt, hanging it up and removing his vest were all rote. Hal's thoughts had wandered into a region of the distant past he usually tried to avoid, and he doubted sleep would find him. He didn't even note when Alex had slipped free of her jacket and dress. Facing him with her black camisole and leggings hugging her curves, she put a hand against the bare skin of his chest, imploring his attention. "Hey. Thomas will be okay," she said consolingly. "It was probably the shock more than anything..." Hal didn't respond while he unhooked the clasp of his trousers and stepped clear. He folded them and turned away from her touch to set them aside. Alex pulled back the covers. She scooted in to lay on her side, watching as he sat and removed his watch. "He's smart, but doesn't always put two and two together you know? He wants to believe the best in people. It's amazing really, given his life."

"I know," Hal acknowledged, as if it were given. He joined Alex under the blankets, facing her. "I didn't tell him because I didn't think I'd have to. It was unnecessary to hurt him."

Alex turned out the light with a ghostly push, plunging the room into a soft darkness. She hooked an arm over Hal's waist to draw him close, the contact pleasant despite the conversation. "I'm sleeping with a dogfighting mass murderer. Anything else that _I_ should know?" She meant it as a lighthearted joke, but he answered her seriously.

"Why would you want to? Annie didn't."

"I'm not Annie. And, she wasn't sleeping with you, far as I could tell."

"Actually... there is something I've been meaning to tell you..." Hal's tone remained serious despite her jesting and for a second Alex wondered if she were wrong about Annie. Hal was wicked fit and Annie had been gorgeous. She had only seen them together briefly but they hadn't _seemed_ more than friends… She dismissed the thought. After just how long it took him to even be comfortable with her touch... The next thing Hal said broke her thoughts. "I mentioned I wanted to make something of myself when I left home..."

With a sudden realization dawning, Alex stated, "You weren't ever really a Lord, were ye?"

Hal snorted a small laugh, her question surprising him, "No. God, no." He breathed a heavy sigh, his mirth short-lived. "Although, I _am_ convinced that the chance was the only reason I lived at all."

Alex propped herself up, head in hand. One of the rare times he was opening up to her... His eyes tipped sideways to meet hers and she raised an eyebrow, questioning what he meant.

"I was an unwanted burden in an age when such children did not last... When my monetary usefulness proved false, the supposed sire refusing to claim me - and rightly so... Well, by then they all must have grown fond. The jest stuck."

"They?"

"My mothers. All.. six..." Hal paused, gauging her reaction. Alex merely raised a curious eyebrow so Hal sighed and forged ahead. "I apologize Alex, I truly haven't been certain how to tell you this. It isn't something..." Hal stopped, turned his face away and continued without looking at her. "I was... born in a brothel. And, was..." he paused, searching for the right word, "reared there until all were lost."

She looked at him blankly for a flurry of heartbeats. Hal prepared himself for her anger or disgust as he returned her gaze. Instead, Alex _chuffed_. "Should that bug me?" She laughed out loud as his face fell. He looked positively aghast at the amusement quaking from her. "Hal, your parentage is the _least_ of the fucked up shit about your past!"

Hal was not amused in the slightest. He started to pull away, sitting up. Alex sobered and caught his arm, stopping him from leaving the bed. He gave her an angry look and she fumbled to explain, "Hey - I'm sorry. I'm sure there wasn't anything funny about it. Just - you're so bloody _posh_, it caught me by surprise." Hal's expression did not change, but he didn't leave. "You being some Lord from back in the day was an easy assumption to believe. But - I can't ever assume anything with you, can I?" She smiled, trying to put him at ease, "I'm curious though. About all of it. About who you were..."

"I was no one," his voice softened. The admission was also a dismissal.

With a gentle pull on his arm, she coaxed him close. "No," she kissed his shoulder. "Maybe it was shite, but you were still someone." Alex slid her hand from his arm to wrap around his chest, holding him to her. "For a brief and formative time, you were human. _Really_ human. And... I can only imagine what a childhood like that must have been like. But you weren't no one. You could never be no one."

Hal pulled away her grasp, turning his head to face her over his shoulder. At his dubious stare Alex tilted her head with a quirky smile. "Besides. I'm glad you weren't _really_ a Lord. You're pompous enough without it," she smirked before catching him with a kiss, much to his shock.

He didn't return her advance, so she paused, searching his eyes. He was regarding her in the most peculiar fashion, as if he couldn't believe she were real. She was about to say some other quip to goad away his mood, but he shifted to face her fully and cupped her cheek. Hal's light and delicate touch contrasted with the intensity of his gaze. When he kissed her it was present and immediate. Alex felt such a surge of passion and hope that she nearly melted. He was here, with her wholly. He was kissing her with not just the perfection of a practiced lover, but with more of himself than he usually allowed.

She was no stranger to seduction. In the last few weeks they had parried it back and forth like a tennis match. She loved the challenge of him. Hal would try to turn his iron will into resisting her, but Alex was an accomplished player with plenty of practice wielding her charms.

The year after her mother's death she had been shattered, and sought any small connection and comfort she could. Those comforts usually involved loud music, liquor and lads. Night after night she would leave the house the second she could, after her littlest brothers were in bed. She didn't yet know her eldest brother was going through the same, but much worse. Coming home to find him half dead was a serious wake-up, calling out her own self-destructive tendencies. She stopped messing around. She got her brother into rehab and then met a nice, solid lad. His friendship had saved her. His flair for fun had helped heal her heart. His flightiness broke it all over again.

With Hal, who had at first seemed like such an easy, gentle thing, she had been trying to recover. She would have had her holiday fling with this incredibly fit bloke from Barry, and then moved on. And now, she could never move on. The irony wasn't lost.

Hal's slender fingers were slipping past her camisole and Alex broke their kiss. She hated herself for even having to say it, "This isn't going to help you sleep."

"Oh I beg to differ," he lifted the thin black material past her head. At the exquisite meeting of his skin against hers, she was done for. He had her, fully.

When they came together it was to a simultaneous sigh, breathy and wanting. Unlike the afternoon, this was languishing and delicate. She was lost in the contours of his face and the strong ridges and lines of his chest. In every movement his body was a song to her. Every touch, every sigh tuned together in perfect pitch. At the end he kept his word, sinking into a softening sleep. Letting go with a slow slip into blessed nothing, Alex joined him willingly.


	8. Despite

_Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they own me. Special thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground.  
Beta __assistance from TJ4ev and Whimsyfox enables (most of) my grammar to pass muster for Hal. _Reviews are welcome, loved and encourage prompter updates.

_*Reader note: Since this story was begun before series 5 aired, I wrote/designed Tom & Hal's new place of employment as "a big new resort with a seaview and everything!" In Walking with a Ghost, the kitchen, staff room and housekeeping office were all described as being downstairs. _

* * *

It was more vivid than other dreams, the first time it happened. Alex recognized where she was immediately. She had been there on numerous school trips, and later as a teenager to party and snog at the abandoned railway station hidden below.

But she had never been to the Botanical Gardens for a party quite like this. A string quartet was playing a lively piece and the whole interior of the glass palace was lit with sparkling candelabras and glowing gas lamp lights. The crowd consisted of well-dressed men in stuffy crisp suits and women in gowns and silken gloves. It was oppressively warm she realized. She looked to the door for a way out and noticed an attractive blonde woman standing near it, dangling an empty champagne glass from a gloved hand. She was wearing a smooth satin dress the palest colour of soft churned yellow. It complemented her milky skin tone and clung to the curves of her hips. The woman caught her eye, smiling with warm recognition. Setting aside her glass with a wary glance at the crowd nearby, she raised her eyebrow suggestively before ducking outside. Without a thought as to why this woman seemed to know her, Alex followed. _Heather_, some strange inner part of her recognized.

Beyond the glass walls of the conservatory, the air was blessedly clear and cool. Alex took a long lungful and felt refreshed.

Heather was walking a slow sway around the edge of the curving structure, just ahead. The pale satin of her dress glowed brightly, a beacon in the dark. She had lifted up her long skirts so the hem didn't catch the dew, exposing strong calves over delicate ankles and fine shoes. They met on the far side of the arching glass, the voices from inside spilling out and the light striking a path across the finely manicured lawn behind them.

"It's beautiful, isn't it? Gordon doesn't appreciate these things," the woman whispered wistfully, finally acknowledging her follower as she leaned against the iron edge of the glass structure.

Alex didn't say anything in response, just noted a northern Scots accent, and followed a compulsion to step closer.

Heather appeared a little tipsy, a few ringlets of her fair hair escaping the the dainty silver pins holding it up. "You're quiet tonight," she teased. "No poetics? Say something eloquent."

_God, was this woman flirting with her?_ This dream sure was odd...

"That, m'lady is due to my present company having stolen my breath," Alex _heard/felt_ herself answering. She stepped closer to Heather as she spoke, who smiled at the compliment. With a glance at the party inside, the elegant woman ducked into the shadows, dousing the brightness of her dress and extending her hand, beckoning. As soon as she stepped close, the blonde took Alex by the collar and kissed her with scandalous passion. Intuitively, nearly out of some habit, Alex's arms encircled the woman. Her dress was seductively smooth, the warmth of her slim waist flowing down to soft curves. The touch was inciting a pulsing desire deep within, radiating in a salacious shiver from her groin and clear up her neck.

Heather had groaned into the kiss and pulled their bodies closer, which only inflamed the intense _want/need/lust/hunger_ that was washing over her. Alex broke the kiss, moved a hand to cup the soft, warm skin of the woman's jawbone.

_WhatthefuckamIdoing? _But Heather coaxed them all the way together, her slender pelvis grinding against her own. Alex couldn't resist kissing the throat arching before her, just over the beckoning pulse. She could _hear/smell/feel_ it and _GOD_! _The want for this woman had gone on long enough._

A building ache thrummed through her skull, its pressure rising against her teeth. Alex felt the force push through, felt her fangs drop. Her lover seemed to sense the shift, her instincts reacting to something amiss. Her heaving chest hitched; _the prelude to a scream_. As easy as anything, effortless as breath, she silenced the woman with a forceful hand that slid from her jaw, to smother her mouth. It was such sweet release when fangs pierced flesh.

Sweeter than wine, purer than water, arterial blood pumped free.

* * *

Alex tore awake with a pounding start. Her heart was stamping staccato in her throat. Her hand flew to her mouth, poking at her incisors with thumb and forefinger. Her teeth were normal, thank the stars. _No fangs_. She wasn't turning into a vampire. It was just a nightmare. Only a nightmare. _A really randy and realistic nightmare_. Jesus.

Her breath had calmed before she realized that next to her, Hal was still. She had _always_ woken as he did. But Hal was still deeply asleep, lying on his back and lost in dreaming. The subtle flutter of his eyelids were a confirmation. A thin icicle of horror settled into the pit of her belly and took root. She watched him for a long time.

She wondered if she were mistaken. Maybe he wasn't dreaming the same thing at all? Maybe her dream was just a by-product of their experiment yesterday. She had "tasted" from him more than mere taste. She had sipped at his subconscious...

It was near morning, grey light creeping through the blinds. Alex sank into her thoughts. All that had happened, all that had been revealed. The channel that she had opened between them. She wanted to ask Hal what he had been dreaming to confirm her suspicions, but knew it was a touchy subject for him. The most he had ever spoken about his nightmares was just that they were terrible.

As dawn slowly filtered into the room, the dream seemed like such a small thing within the context of everything else going on. Maybe it really was only a nightmare. With her death, and everything that had come after, she had certainly been exposed to plenty to have nightmares over. Maybe it wouldn't happen again.

Hal turned in his sleep, startling her as his arm automatically folded over her waist. She felt his chest rise and fall as he came awake and wondered at the power of habit. Of instinct. He didn't need to breathe in sleep, yet the unconscious action was there. Since she wasn't coming awake with him, Alex enjoyed the way the blankets had slipped from his shoulder. Even at rest, the sculpted form of his muscles drew her eye down the contour of his bicep and further, to where the blankets rested at his waist. When she returned her gaze to his face, she was startled to find his hazel gaze fixed on her. "You're staring," he muttered. She couldn't help but smile, ruffling his unkempt hair. She loved him in the mornings. He was just a touch more flippant.

"Mornin'," she chimed and pulled him closer, till every bit of them was pressed together. "Tis a grand day for travel, don't ya think?" She said, maybe a little too brightly, for he scowled. She kissed his shoulder with exaggerated warmth. Despite the dream, staring at him all morn had made her want him again. That repeatable pull; her addiction. She smiled teasingly, stroked his side slowly pulling the sheet down to expose his hip. He merely sighed and tugged at the covers.

Despite all they faced that day, Hal managed a slow smile as he met her familiar mischievous grin. He still couldn't fathom that he continued to awaken with her by his side. After decades of sleeping alone, he kept thinking that one day her presence would grate on him. But thus far, it had not. She had a way of instantly pulling him out of himself, of shifting his brooding attention to other things. Which she was doing at that precise moment...

Alex writhed against him, lightly kissing his neck. "So you'll be calling in, right? We've got plenty of time..." she hinted.

"No, we do not," he disagreed, even against the part of him that dearly wanted to blow off everything and fuck her senseless. _And drink her dry, of course._ Which was precisely why they must _not_. He kissed her, but pinned her arm to keep her from further movement. "The car is at the hotel, remember?" He reasoned. "And I'd like to have a few things taken care of before departing."

"Mmmm," Alex returned his kiss poutily. "That's really too bad," and she started to tease him, demonstrating what he was missing out on with his audacity to go to work. It was a game they had played before. They had the house to themselves for only a brief time in the mornings. Tom's shift at the hotel started earlier than Hal's, and Allison often left with him. Hal was beginning to fall into susceptibility when there was a hard and decisive knock at the door. They both froze, wide-eyed and smiling at each other like guilty teenagers.

"Alex? Hal? I need to talk to you. Tom never came home." Pinched with worry, the normally verbose girl revealed the extent of her concern with the brevity of her statement.

Alex watched Hal's smile fall, his guilt crashing down around them. "We'll be right down," he answered promptly, already sitting up. He ran a hand through his hair as he pulled away from her.

No time for pressups, nor dominos. Not when Tom could be in trouble. Hal had thoroughly expected his young friend to have come home _eventually_ last night. Tom was too smitten with Allison to have stayed out, despite his anger. Or so he had thought. Hal dressed quickly, even knowing that he needed to bathe. Alex teleported out of his bed into her attire, waiting until he was ready before going downstairs.

Allison was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea, looking miserable. She had left a pair of mugs next to the teapot, even though this wasn't their usual time for breakfast. Her unruly curls were even more frizzed than usual and dark shadows hollowed under puffy eyes. She barely looked up when Hal and Alex pulled out chairs to join her at the table.

"He hasn't called or messaged?" Hal asked as he poured a mug of tea for Alex, knowing she enjoyed it despite being unable drink, then another for himself. Allison shook her head in response, her glasses slipping. She pushed them back up with weariness and looked up to meet his eyes.

"I don't imagine he's called you, has he?" The hope in her voice betrayed reason.

"No," Hal replied, letting the unspoken tension over their argument remain unsaid.

"Has he done something like this before?" Alex asked both of them.

Allison shook her head but looked to Hal. "I was hoping to ask you the same thing."

"Once before, because of Kirby. He was angry with me then too, actually" Hal reflected. Allison sat up a little straighter, her eagerness at the possibility that this was a recognizable pattern evident. Hal hated to disappoint her. "Tom returned that same evening however. Where did you search last night?"

Alex looked to Allison before answering, "First, the bars cuz if I was that hacked that's where'd I'd go… but no Tom. Then we swung down along the wharf where he likes to go running."

"What about work? He could have gone there to cool off." Hal offered, but Allison shook her head.

"We looked there too," her voice cracked a bit, as if she was trying to keep from crying. Then she voiced the question Hal suspected had kept her up half the night, "Richard Turner wouldn't want anything with him, would he?"

"I'm confident Richard went back to London, so I'm doubtful it could be that," Hal tried to reassure Allison. "Besides, Tom can hold his own against my kind. It is highly improbable that he has been abducted."

"But still, this isn't like him," Alex confirmed.

"No, it is not. Did you check the police station?"

Allison furrowed her brow, the idea obviously at odds with her picture of Tom, "No… but I can stop by on my way to class I guess. You really think he could have been _arrested_?"

"We don't know, so it is best to cover all probabilities, despite how far-fetched," Hal kept his voice as soothing as possible.

"And I hate to even suggest this, but I can pop over and check through the hospital," Alex offered.

Allison balked at the thought, but then nodded at the ghost reluctantly, "Thanks Alex." She finished her tea hastily and stood, pulling her shoulder bag off the back of her chair with a button-clicking clatter. Sudden urgency wouldn't change matters, but Allison appeared strengthened by having a plan, however weak. "I better head out then. Sorry to uh, wake you,"

Hal stood as well, "No, I'm glad you told us."

Allison paused in the doorway, "Will you be running Rook's errand today?" Referring to it as Rook's errand was easier than asking if they were beaming themselves all the way up to the Hebrides and back.

Hal shook his head, "Not if Tom is missing. I'll check with them though. Maybe they've seen him? Rook seems to usually know where we're all at," Hal stated it irritably, but also knew that it would reassure Allison.

"Yeah, I wondered about that," she answered, seemingly a little encouraged. "Keep me posted, will you?"

Hal nodded, "We will. And likewise."

Alex rent-a-ghosted her teacup, along with Allison's, into the sink, then folded her arms over her chest. "Shite," she stated grimly to the kitchen in general.

Awkwardly, Hal started towards the washing-up, but stopped himself. More than anything he recognized that he should return to his usual morning routine for steadiness. "I need to -"

"Go do your thing. I'll hit the hospital right now."

Hal looked away, but nodded. "Thanks," he sighed.

Alex could see his guilt weighing down his shoulders. She stood and reached for his hands, catching him before he could leave. "Hey, this isn't your fault. I'm sure Tom's okay. He has to be." Hal neither agreed nor disagreed. She held his gaze a long time. "You can't carry this," she said, wishing she sounded convincing. Eventually, she let him go.

"I'll come get you if... I need to." Alex couldn't bring herself to say it. Hal nodded without saying anything further, and left to return upstairs.

* * *

The A&E was blessedly quiet at this early hour of morning, but Alex checked through each partition anyways. None of the cordoned off spaces revealed a battered Tom. There was a cluster of hospital staff watching the news in the waiting room and eating pastries. _God, what she wouldn't do for a shortbread!_ She thought about trying to taste from one of them, but then the images on the television caught her eye. Rook hadn't exaggerated about the coverage.

On the screen was the bomb site in London with it's skewed railroad tie viewed from a helicopter as it circled the decimated Shand Street archway. She could even make out Richard's office building with it's crisp white stonework. The footage flashed to a news anchor interviewing a police officer, "That's right. We have confirmed that what was believed to be an explosion triggered by a gas leak, was actually an intentional detonation." Alex wondered if they had arrested Richard yet. Apparently the anchorman wondered the very same thing. "Do you have a lead on any suspects?" The officer answered with the usual police-speak for _we-haven't-the- faintest_, "Interpol and Special Branch are collaborating to follow several leads at the moment. I would encourage viewers with any information to call -"

Alex continued her search, looking for signs to Intensive Care. The news couldn't tell her anything she didn't already know. This corridor was a bit more active; a pair of nurses wheeling IVs, a doctor in a lab coat holding a clipboard. Typical. Alex walked the corridor, peering into each room for her friend. She had run out of rooms to look into when somewhere, a beeping alarm went off and the doctor she had passed sprinted along with another nurse to a room across the hall. Curious, Alex wandered over to watch from the doorway.

The room was one she had quickly dismissed for the occupant was far too small to belong to her friend. Instead, it was a little boy not much older than her Will. Eyes closed, his face was slack with an unnatural pallor. The nurse immediately checked the child's pulse and airway, then began performing CPR. The doctor pulled a defibrillator from the wall and Alex felt her heart breaking. Almost like a sense of fate, she could _feel_ that it was too late before the doctor could even begin. She watched the hazy form of the child's ghost appear at the foot of his bed. He was watching the flurry of work over his body with a detached sort of curiosity. Alex flattened herself in the doorway to allow another nurse wheeling a tray to pass through. The boy looked in her direction and cocked his head at her curiously, like he wanted to ask her something, but was forced to turn away. The hospital staff all kept working, trying to revive the boy even though his Door had appeared. It was a cheery yellow thing, with a doodled-on chalkboard adhered to it, the picture a rocketship shot through with stars. Alex wondered if it had been his bedroom door at home.

A light brighter than sunshine, brighter than anything, filled the room when the child turned the handle. Alex was fascinated. This was her first time witnessing a Door from this side, as a ghost. Even though it was almost too bright to look at, Alex watched as the door swung all the way open and the little boy stepped through, swallowed by the light.

But the opening didn't shut. Immediately, another figure, much taller, darkened the passage. A sharp silhouette with tattered clothes, carrying a tall stick with a coiled rope. Alex froze, her stomach somersaulting into her sternum.

Filling the threshold of the doorway, the figure looked directly at her. Slowly, using the hand not carrying his weapon, he tapped his chest, then, lifted his hand up to point at one milk-white eye. In morbid pageantry, he extended his arm _through _the doorway to point at her. And then he _grinned_.

A profound terror ripped through her like he had shot her with it. When someone tapped her shoulder, Alex shrieked and about jumped out of her skin. Finally unfrozen, she wheeled around defensively - _they weren't gonna take her without a fight goddamnit!_ - and came face to face with a stocky elderly woman.

The Door slammed shut, its blinding light no longer illuminating the old woman's face. She smiled at Alex sympathetically, laugh lines cracking across her weathered skin as she patted her shoulder. "There now dear. Those nasty buggers can't come through. No need to be frightened."

Alex caught her breath. She looked the woman up and down and just like she could _feel _that it was that boy's time, she could _feel_ that this person was a ghost. "You're like me," Alex stated then realized how silly that sounded.

"No, not at all dear!"

"Oh... you're … uh... not.. um..." Alex stuttered, wondering if she had gotten it wrong.

"Oh no, I've been dead a long time! But I'm nothing like you. You've got a _spark_ in you." The woman smiled then indicated with a jerk of her head that they should step aside. The doctor with the clipboard was coming though, leaving the nurses inside to deal with the little boy's body.

"Maggie," the ghost offered, extending her hand. Alex shook it politely and the woman's grip tightened, her eyes narrowing. "Thought so. Who you feeding off of girlie? Obviously not that little boy."

Alex pulled free, a little more violently than necessary. She was clearly stronger than the other ghost who rubbed her hand, looking hurt.

"I'm not -" Alex started but the woman stomped close to her, threateningly.

"We don't take your kind here. Get out."

"But I'm just looking for my friend. I'm not here to -"

"GET OUT!"

Alex appeared in front of the "home" sign at Honolulu Heights. It was instinctual, she didn't even think it through, just rent-a-ghosted out of there. The nerve of that old biddy! What the bloody hell... The woman obviously thought she was someone or something else. But then Alex remembered the Door and that grin. _I see you... _Alex shivered.

"You didn't find him, did you?"

Alex jumped for the second time that morning. "Uh, no," she answered shakily.

Hal was already dressed for work and clean shaven, but still looked fatigued. _Who you feeding off of, girlie?_ Alex shuddered and noticed that Hal was peering at her with concern, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I think. There's a weird ghost hanging round the Intensive," Alex stated. She elected not to mention the man she saw in the doorway. She didn't want to worry him.

"Some do that sometimes. Usually when they're fed up and looking for Doors. It doesn't work that way, but some still try."

Maggie didn't seem like she was looking for a Door. More like guarding it. But Alex didn't say anything. Instead, she just asked, "Are you walking?"

Alex was glad for the company and the walk, even though they didn't say much. Hal was obviously worried over Tom and lost in thought. She followed him into the lobby where Megan immediately smiled from the front desk, "Mornin' Hal!"

Hal gave a small nod and continued to head towards his office. But then he paused, "Say - you haven't seen Tom, have you?"

"McNair? Aye. He's downstairs, where else?"

"What?" Alex scoffed. Hal didn't bother hiding his surprise, nor did he respond to Megan with anything more as he passed for the stairs.

In the kitchen, Sophie was loading a pan of biscuits into the oven. Tom was nowhere to be seen. Hal shook his head. He really shouldn't have bothered asking the girl.

"Right - that be the apples then?" Tom's voice rang out from the cooler. By the time he emerged carrying a tub of diced and spiced pie filling, Hal had worked up a fairly impressive scowl.

"Where have you been?" Hal demanded. Sophie looked up, but Tom looked away.

"Thomas - Allison was worried sick o'er you!" Alex practically shouted. "Not to mention I just got accosted by a ghost at the hospital while I made sure_ you weren't there_!"

Tom set down the apples and Sophie looked between the two friends awkwardly. Hal sighed, "Look, you have every right to be angry with me. That's fine. But at least call Allison."

"I did," Tom replied, averting his eyes from Hal's scowl. "Had to wait till I got here this mornin' on account of leaving m'phone in m'bag at home."

"So you've spoken to her?" Tom still wasn't meeting Hal's eyes, but he nodded. "Fine," Hal said abruptly, ending the conversation between them. Tom squared his jaw, then opened the apple tray with excessive force. With barely a glance to Alex, Hal stormed away to the housekeeping office.

"You alright Tom?" Alex asked, before remembering that Tom couldn't answer her in front of Sophie. "If you want to talk, just let me know." Tom had turned away, reaching for one of many doughy piles. He kneaded the dough into quick submission, then started scooping the apple filling into it. "Look he's... Hal didn't want to hurt you, alright?" Tom didn't give any indication of a reply.

Reluctantly, Alex left Tom to his work. Sophie looked quite uncomfortable at the tiff she had witnessed and Alex didn't want to risk making her even more so by provoking Tom enough to speak to an invisible person. With a quick rent-a-ghost tug, Alex appeared on the other side of the door to Hal's office. He had sunk into his chair and was clicking through something on the computer with complete disinterest.

She expected him to be broody and silent. She just wanted to make sure he was alright. But without looking up he asked, "Do you still want to do this?"

"What? Give Tom a swift talking to? " Alex understood Tom was angry, but it was still quite surprising that he had stayed out all night and made Allison worry.

"No. Grimsay," Hal sounded like he was forcing himself to even address it. "I have a few things to finish up this morning. Edwards will be less inclined to notice I've left early if everything is done. We're scheduled off tomorrow anyways."

Alex sighed. She sensed Rook's request wasn't the only thing driving Hal's motivation to disappear for a little while, but she didn't confront him on it. Instead, she answered him cheekily, "Sure, Game On. Maybe all this time I just needed to see a Hebridean sunset to make my life complete." Hal made a pained face at her so she softened. "I don't want to see this coming back to you or Tom. If we can help Rook's department catch these guys, then yeah."

Hal nodded his acceptance. "I will need to call him. To arrange the car, if he can."

"You've got a place?"

"I know of a spot," he was resigned, sounding almost sad with the memory. "Out on a inlet past a bluff, away from the main settlements. There is still a risk someone could see us, but I believe the island remains less populated on weekdays."

"And what about getting to Harris? Will Rook rent us a boat?"

"There's a ferry," he said, gesturing to the screen. "I did a Google."


	9. Resignation and Uncomfortable Places

_Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they own me. Special thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground._

_Beta assistance from TJ4ev and Whimsyfox enables (most of) my grammar to pass muster for Hal. Extra work on this one deserves an extra special shout out. Thanks guys._

Reviews are welcome, loved and encourage prompter updates. This chapter is brought to you by Amy whose review was the nudge I needed to forge on ahead.

* * *

To prepare for a long distance, cross-kingdom jump, one normally should meditate. Or pack a bag. If long distance, cross-kingdom jumps were normal, that is. Hal Yorke, on the other hand, was quite loudly putting away the dishes. And sorting the recycling.

"Is this really necessary?" Alex asked while leaning against the doorway to the kitchen. She crossed her arms over her chest in amusement as she watched Hal rummage around in the pantry. He didn't answer her so Alex prodded again, "We'll be back tonight. Unless we miss that ferry."

"We are not going to miss the ferry," he retorted, stacking the pots.

"It's not like you won't be able to do any of this tomorrow." Alex was eager to get going. Regardless of the circumstances, she was looking forward to the adventure of traveling somewhere new.

"On the off chance that we don't return, I will at least know it's sorted."

"Yeah, for like five minutes until Tom cooks again. Why wouldn't you make it back? I'm not going to splinch you. Promise," she smirked sweetly.

Hal paused in his analysis of their recycling bin. "On the off chance I'm staked, I'll die happier alright?"

"Why the bloody hell would you be staked? Is this Carl fellow one of your old friends like Cutler was one of your friends? Cuz _that_ man was like, Dr. Evil-style bonkers."

"No, Carl was... _is_ one of the good ones. He was kind. I just wasn't so kind the last time we spoke."

"Enough that he may _stake_ you on sight? Why didn't you tell Rook?"

"Hope springs eternal," Hal muttered the quote to himself, then answered her seriously. "I doubt Rook would have cared." With one last glance around the kitchen, Hal approved that everything was in order. Pausing at the refrigerator, he slipped a note with the address Rook had given them from his pocket and pinned it under a magnetic domino. He passed Alex and proceeded to the reception phone. Even though he knew she was in class, he dialed Allison's number. It rang a few times, then transferred to her voicemail.

"Allison, I trust Tom reached you from work. He appeared to be fine..." Hal let that trail, then cut to the point of his call. "I wanted to inform you that Alex & I will be traveling on Rook's errand after all. Do not be alarmed if you do not see us this evening. The address of our destination is on the refrigerator, in the event that you have need of it." Hal cradled the receiver, mentally checked that task off his list, and proceeded upstairs.

"What, that's it? Nothing for Tom?" Alex followed him up the stairs.

"Tom is aware of where we are going. That was merely a courtesy." Upon reaching his room, Hal opened his wardrobe and retrieved a change of clothing. Grey trousers, a clean shirt and a dark jumper; simple clothes. Appearing on the Isle of Grimsay in his work attire would attract far too much attention.

Alex watched him change with her arms folded over her chest. After pulling on his sturdy boots, he stood, looked around the room and finally became still. Everything was in its place. "That it then? You certain you don't need to weed the front garden first?" Alex jibed.

Hal cocked his head, "I hadn't considered that." Alex's face fell and he smiled, giving away his sarcasm which Alex scowled at. He asked, "Think it will work just as before?"

"Yeah, I guess. You want to meditate first or something?" She couldn't help her concern. If this worked, they would be traveling over seven hundred miles; further than Alex had ever attempted.

"No need. I remember it clearly."

Alex unfurled her arms and stepped away from the mantle she had been leaning on. She took a hesitant step towards Hal and tried to quiet the flutter of nerves that rose up with an echo of memory; _pale satin in the darkness, teeth piercing through yielding flesh to flood her mouth with blood_. Alex shoved the fleeting imagery away. If it happened again, after they got through this, then she would mention it. Hal was trying to appear relaxed, his hands casual and loose at his sides. But Alex could sense his resignation, same as her own.

As before, she looped her arms over his shoulders and reached into his hair. He did the same, looking into her eyes with a mixture of trepidation and trust. Their foreheads rested against each other out of habit, and he took a deep breath, savoring his sense of her as he closed his eyes.

Alex swallowed, tried to push down the sudden rush of randiness that had inappropriately spiked in her. Why did he have to smell so god-damned good, she wondered? She pushed it aside. Hopefully, there would be time for that later. She forced her focus and slipped _into_ him.

_Hunger, a deep hollow ache stretching through every limb, centered on an agony primal in its terrible, trembling need. _Alex wrenched back out, momentarily startled. She recognized the sensation, but it was stronger than her dream tenfold. Idly, she wondered when was the last time Hal had eaten proper food. She wondered if it mattered. Images were pressing at her edges, nudging in. _Tides and water, light and sky. The air of salt and heather, hedges and moors. Feet anchored in sand, a thatched roof cottage on a short bluff... and a gnawing need underneath it all. Alex could feel the sun on her face, hear the cry of gulls. The hunger was part of the memory, etched into the place as clearly as the shoreline. _

_The image expanded through her... _

In contrast to the sun-soaked memory, the extreme sense of _wet_ was hugely disorienting. The tide sucked at their waists, tugged at her dress and filled her pockets. Hal had his arms over her shoulders but his eyes were wincing and shut. Alex still had hold of him and tried to keep them steady. The shore was a good forty feet away. Keeping hold of his shoulders, Alex righted them onto the sand with one sideways pull. Hal wrenched away from her grasp with desperate strength and dropped to his knees. Fingers clawed the sand and suddenly, he dry heaved. Alex immediately dropped next to him but he waved her off. "I'm - it's - urugh." After a worrying moment, he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and came upright, knees still in sand. "This was an utterly horrendous idea."

"I'm sorry - I don't know how I missed -"

"You didn't. It's been centuries. The bloody shoreline changed." Hal stood a bit unsteadily and scowled at his trousers. His clothing was soaked through, shirt stuck wetly against skin and his boots full of seawater. "Wonderful."

Alex recalled the sensation of water filling her pockets and looked down. The silk of her dress shimmered lightly in the breeze, totally dry. She shrugged at the mystery of it and offered, "Maybe we can fetch you something in town?"

"Doubtful. These are islanders. They either close shop early, or aren't open at all until the weekend," Hal reasoned, but the truth was he didn't feel steady enough after their jump to approach people. He attempted to brush off the sand clinging to his sodden trousers without much luck. Then, using Alex's shoulder for balance, he removed a boot with a swift tug of the laces, tipped the the water out, replaced it, then did the same with the other. Miffed at the indignity of it all, and at his own mistake, he straightened, then indicated towards the grassy hillside. "Come on. We may as well find the car."

Alex followed Hal up a pathway from the shore to the bluff above. The little thatched-roof cottage from his memory was nowhere to be seen. A single road wound down, into the distant hills, and disappeared. The only thing interrupting the rolling green landscape of hedges was a square blue speck of a lone vehicle, parked just off the road. They started the moderate walk towards it.

Hal's boots squelched wetly and his trousers, laden with seawater, chafed against the burn on his leg. Before they had even reached the tiny blue Renault, he declared, "I'm not driving all the way to Harris in _that_ like _this."_

Rook's resources were vast, but apparently not very impressive. The old navy Alliance was so rusted it was questionable the thing would even start. Maybe this wasn't their car at all. Maybe someone had just left it out here on the lonely bluff to die.

Hal retrieved the key from behind the driver's rear tyre, just where it was supposed to be. "Shit, that thing looks like it'll break down on general principle," Alex retorted.

The key worked and Hal opened the driver's door to peer in. The car appeared clean, at least. He checked his watch, thankful it had remained dry. "We have time," he mused. "Its only twenty minutes to the village. We will be paying a visit to our cover after all."

* * *

Kitchen scrubbed down, supper pies baked and even the recycling sorted; Tom McNair finally had to admit that his work was finished for the day. He hadn't seen Alex or Hal since this morning, which was a blessing really. He was terrible at lying.

Tom glanced at the industrial metal clock high up over the sink. He should be catching his bus to class right now. Untying the strings, Tom took off his apron and hung it up.

"Bye Tom," Sophie chimed pleasantly from the worktable where she was finishing up dinner prep. She had been even more quiet today than usual, and Tom knew it was on account of Hal shouting at him. But she hadn't asked questions of him either, which was nice.

Stepping out into the afternoon, Tom watched the departing bus that would have taken him to the college for his class. Last night, his decision had been made. Still, it had taken him lengthy considering to come to accords. Sitting at the edge of a pier, he had watched the blackness of night ebb into shades of grey before he had resigned himself.

Leaving in the opposite direction of his bus, Tom started walking.

* * *

The storybook perfection of the stone cottage they came to beyond the village took Alex by surprise with its window boxes and little blue shutters. "You know people who live here?" She asked Hal, who had paused at the gate.

Just beyond was an organized garden, raised beds in rows with crushed seashell gravel between. Shears and soft leather gardening gloves had been left on a weeding stool.

The gate creaked pleasantly when Hal opened it, "Apparently, I do," he replied, eying the leather gloves.

The path to the door led through the garden and was the same worn stone as the house, with a lush ground cover growing in between. Blue star creeper, Alex recalled as they passed. Her mother's favorite.

At Hal's use of the heavy brass door knocker, there were the sounds of movement inside. Behind the flicker of a lace curtain Alex caught a flash of a pale face, dark hair. The door was swung open by a young girl. Apparently, Hal didn't know her anymore than she knew him. She peered at the two of them suspiciously. From the back, a young man's voice called, "If it's those Bible peddling know-it-alls again they can suck my dick!"

Hal rolled his eyes. The voice confirmed they were indeed at the correct house. Alex was just startled.

"What do you want?" the girl asked them rather rudely.

"Adam Jacobs, if he has a moment."

"Adam!" the girl turned and hollered with a booming bark. Then she glanced back at Alex. "I know what _he_ is, but what are you?"

Before Alex could answer, another teenager, wearing a "Kiss the Chef" apron and an annoyed expression, came down the hall. At the sight of Hal his young face lit up with a wide grin.

"Well shit the bed. If it isn't the Queen Mother!" Adam elbowed the girl aside. Alex couldn't fathom how Hal had possibly come to know this brazen youth.

"You seem well," Hal stated.

"Yeah, yeah. Come in. You gonna introduce me to hot stuff there?" he asked as they followed him inside.

"Adam, Alex," Hal obliged. With emphasis, he added, "My _girlfriend_." Alex was shocked. Hal had never actually called her that.

"Alright, my man!" Adam exclaimed, then pointed at the girl next to him, who was already rolling her eyes. "This is Christa. _Not_ my girlfriend."

Christa whacked him with her magazine. "That's because you're married nitwit." Only then did Alex realize that they both had addressed her. They could see her. Adam must be a vampire, she realized with a start. God, what a horrible thing, to be stuck permanently as a teenager. And she thought Hetty had it bad…

Clipped heels could be heard approaching, and an attractive, middle-aged woman joined them in the foyer. She was wearing a flour-covered apron over a stiff pressed tweed skirt. Something in the way she carried herself reminded Alex of Mary Poppins. Her eyes lit up with a warm smile.

"Hal! What a surprise," she greeted, brightly. "What on earth has brought you up here?" After asking, she quickly shook her head. "Never mind. You're nearly in time for supper. Will you be staying?" Without leaving room to answer, she stepped forward and held out a hand to Alex, "Yvonne Bradshaw my dear."

Alex shook it, somewhat confused that this woman could see her as well as the other two. _Were they all vampires?_ "Alex Millar," she introduced herself.

"Oh! You're a ghost," Yvonne noted. "I'm learning to tell, as it were," she stated to Hal.

"Apologies for the intrusion, but this was an unexpected sojourn," Hal stated, hiding the way they had truly arrived, then looked down at himself. "And there has been a malady of travel."

"He fell off the dinghy," Alex added to corroborate his story. He gave her a very brief look of irritation.

"Oh," Yvonne raised an eyebrow but tactfully changed the subject. "You must be staying at The Barn?"

Hal looked absolutely appalled at the suggestion. "Uh, no. We were going to head to Harris tonight."

Yvonne momentarily looked confused. "To Leverburgh? That's impossible, unless you'll be sailing your dinghy." Hal's expression flickered briefly, exposing Alex's lie. "You're missing the last ferry as we speak." At their perplexed looks Yvonne continued, "The just switched to the Fall schedule I'm afraid. There's only two crossings now, as of yesterday."

"Of course. I meant tomorrow. We have one more -"

"You'll stay with us," Yvonne declared brusquely.

"Thank you for the offer, but we really must be -"

"I insist. I don't know what state of affairs brought you here like this, but we wouldn't be ones to judge. We owe you the same kindness after all. I'll whip up another brioche."

"Trust me. Anything she whips up is worth it," Adam made an obscene gesture that Yvonne was completely nonplussed by.

"Get you!" Alex chuckled, amused by this uncouth young man.

Yvonne scrutinized Hal, taking in his damp clothes and wet boots. "Something of Adam's will have to suffice until we can get you washed and dried. Adam?"

Adam was twitching his eyebrow at Alex rather lewdly but looked back to Hal. "Sure thing. Hey - how's the blob?" Adam asked as he started down the corridor and Yvonne returned to the kitchen. Christa was looking between Hal & Alex, realization dawning on her face.

"You're the vampire they stayed with in Barry. You're like him," Christa motioned to Adam who paused. "Off the blood."

Hal nodded, glad to evade Adam's question about Eve, and removed his wet boots. Once they could return home, he'd have to clean the leather thoroughly to be rid of the salt water treatment. Until then he would be stuck with unpleasantly damp shoes, which was a thoroughly horrid thought. Christa cocked her head at him as he unlaced his boots entirely in a woeful attempt at more air circulation.

"You really don't look that old. Huh. Fucking vampires," she swore then wandered off.

Adam rolled his eyes, "Don't mind her. She gets cranky this close to her monthlies. It's like PMS on steroids around here." He motioned for them to follow. Judging by the comment, Alex then realized that Christa must be a werewolf. Hal didn't seem fazed so he must have already sensed it, just as the young girl could immediately tell what he was. Alex wasn't as well equipped to distinguish between supernatural types.

Adam started giving them a brief tour. "Right, here be the bath. Down there's Christa's room. Don't go in there if you value your life."

"I heard that," Christa's voice came muffled from the living room.

"There's towels in here," Adam, unperturbed, pointed to a cupboard. Beyond it was a slender stairway leading up, and beyond that, another bedroom door at the end of the hall. "I'll be right back with a change-o." He gave Alex a debonair eye, "Any requests, gorgeous? I've got chaps."

Alex's eyes went wide and she quickly tried to cover her guffaw with her hand.

Hal just covered his eyes, wincing at Adam's behavior. He shouldn't be surprised really. "Why don't you see if Yvonne would like help in the kitchen? I won't be long." Hal offered Alex the suggestion to avoid subjecting her to Adam while he cleaned up.

Adam shrugged and left to fetch some spare clothes. Alex chuckled with total amusement, "I can't believe he stayed with you and _lived_." Hal opened the cupboard and selected a towel with a sigh. She noticed he was moving rather stiffly, "You sure you're alright?"

"I will be better after I remove the bits of sand from uncomfortable places."

"And you're certain you want to stay here? I may be able to jump us across as long as I can see where I'm going."

Hal looked completely appalled at the thought. "I'd rather not again so soon, honestly," he said, cringing somewhat. "Waiting until morning is just as well. It is not as if we were expected."

"Here you go," Adam emerged from the back bedroom, closing the door behind him. He offered a stacked bundle of clothing to Hal. It all looked fairly standard so Hal took it. Not wearing someone else's clothing really _should_ be on his list. But since soggy trousers soaked in saltwater were even more unbearable, he would make do for a few hours.

"What were you doing in a dinghy anyway? Looking for mermaids?" Adam asked then chuckled at his own joke. "We can toss yours in the wash. Maybe Alex can bring it out," Adam winked at her.

"You're permanently _gantin!_" Alex blurted, finally just stating the obvious.

"I've no idea what you just called me, but I guarantee I've been called worse. Probably by Christa. C'mon. Let's leave the man to his bath and you can tell me all about dating a relic. Does he read you poetry? "

Alex gave one backwards glance to Hal in the doorway. He just shook his head, but Alex caught a glint of a half smile as he closed the door.

* * *

The walk wasn't far for one such as Tom, who had grown up accustomed to traversing long trails. He enjoyed the stroll that took him along the waterfront and down past the docks. It was the same route he had traveled the night prior, when everything had changed. While he walked, Tom recalled the chance encounter that hadn't been chance at all.

Irving hadn't yet been a werewolf a year. He was a little older than Tom, but still hadn't quite grown into his skin. Due to his slight build and easy-going character, his pack had decided he would be the most disarming of them with which to make introductions.

At first, Tom had tried to outrun him. It hadn't taken long for the wind to shift, carrying the scent of the werewolf in pursuit. Tom probably would have sensed him sooner if he hadn't been so wrapped up in his troubles.

"Tom McNair!" his pursuer had finally shouted, growing breathless.

Tom slowed, then stopped, abruptly wheeling to confront the stranger. In a fit of recklessness, his anger still brewing under the surface, Tom growled out in challenge, "Who wants ta' know?"

As the figure approached, stepping out of the darkness, Tom could see the hint of scars peeking out from under his collar. He was young, sandy haired and red faced.

Halting a safe distance away, the other werewolf caught his breath. "And I'm s'posed to be one of our fair runners. They were right about you," he stated with a heavy Irish accent. "Irving O'Meara. Pleasure," and he gave a little salute.

"Who were right?"

"My pack, Mr. McNair. They want to meet you."

Tom's heart had given a little flutter of excitement. He and McNair had been looking for "The Pack" for as long as he could rightly remember. But Tom was still cautious. "Why would your pack have any interest in me?"

"Because," Irving looked rather surprised, like Tom should already know. "You're famous, 'tis why. Now, we're all actually not too far from here."

"That's grand, but... why should I trust you?"

"Ah, no reason I s'ppose. I be knowing we mean ye no harm, but you won't be knowing that there." Irving shrugged his hands into his pockets and leaned back on his heels. "Are you not the least bit curious? We certainly are 'bout you. I mean - to be turned as just a wee lad? There's none like it. There's stories bout you, and your Da."

"Stories? 'Bout me?" Tom asked incredulously.

"Aye! 'Bout your hunts. It really true that you took out that whole nest of vampires back in Cardiff last year?"

Irving really did seem to know. Tom just shrugged though, neither confirming nor denying.

"Look, we be camped at the caravan park just up yonder. It's open, public space. Plenty of other folk about. Why don't you come by, see for yourself? Share a story or two 'round the fire?"

Admittedly, Tom had been more than curious. In the end, his curiosity won and he had followed Irving to his camp. What harm could there be in meeting a few werewolves?

* * *

_*The Barn is an actual, real life "luxury" holiday rental on Grimsay. Looks rather nice._

_*For those who did not already do a Google, "gantin" is Scottish slang for horny._


	10. Colour Me Impressed

_Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they own me. Special thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground. Beta assistance from TJ4ev and Whimsyfox enables (most of) my grammar to pass muster for Hal.  
Reviews are love._

* * *

Old oak, polished and darkly gleaming, offset the plush red velvet. Candlelight flickered amidst muted sconces, in keeping with the discretionary ambiance of the private club. Richard Turner sipped a tall glass of supper and tried, unsuccessfully, to relax. Restraint had to be used to keep from checking his phone with incessant repetition. Since he was currently avoiding his office, the device was his only tether to his business.

The past two days had been a painful blur that began with the news of the bombing and had gone downhill hence. His time had been spent on the phone, Skype and email, arranging a full property scan to assess the increasingly revealed damages. He had been shocked to discover the extent to which his latent assets had been targeted. London had merely been the last in a progressive string of attacks. _Brutal hounds!_ He should have seen this coming. He had been so pre-occupied with righting the mess of the Old Ones, placating Hetty, and forming the Council - not to mention fretting over Henry's intentions - that he had let their own business fall lax. Fight rings - six of them gone! Each of them had fallen without witnesses or explanation. The meager staff he had placed to oversee each dormant locale were all missing. None had returned his messages.

Within that first sleep-deprived morning his assistant Celine had proven her worth. She had already taken the initiative to deploy investigatory measures before he had returned her calls. At her urging, and due to the convenience, he made a personal detour to Bristol on his return journey from Barry. What he found would soon manifest as a familiar scenario; their caretakers were gone, the post piled up at the door, cups ringed with dehydrated liquid near the tele and stale food in the fridge. Their employee's personal effects were all still in place. The only sign of a struggle was a fine residue of dusty ash settled over the table, and a lingering scent of wolf. Vampires, especially lower-tiered ones, disappeared far too easily. Perhaps he should consider employing more humans. At least then the systematic murder of his staff would leave more evidence with which to work.

Celine had reported four other locations failing to respond. As a precaution, he had sent her away. She needed to avoid the office as well as her flat in the event that all of their properties were under threat, at least until Richard could unravel some leads to find the dogs behind this. The Council, many of whom were clients, had provided them with a safe house, one to which Richard should himself be traveling. His contacts within the London police could only hold back the tide so much.

Richard took another sip of decanted blood and reached for his phone, just as the thing vibrated a pleasant announcement. It wasn't Celine, but another one of his employees. Richard sighed aloud and read the message.

_Have news. Meet me at the Horseshoe tonight if you can._

Richard downed the last of his drink and slammed the glass on the table. Duty called.

* * *

"And that's why there's no point in wearing your favorite rocketship underpants."

Christa was smiling broadly, won over by Alex's gruff teasing of Adam. The ghost was a sharp match for his gutter wit. Hal cleared his throat from the doorway to the kitchen which caused Christa, who was facing his way, to raise one dark eyebrow. "Um, I'll just go set the table," she said with sudden awkwardness. Alex turned around. Her already bright smile broadened.

"Oh _no_ way!" she chuffed.

Yvonne looked up from the salad she was preparing and tutted, "Adam, really."

"What? He looks hot. Alex appreciates it, am I right?"

Alex punched Adam in the arm, but kept grinning. "I must admit I imagined it. But I never _ever _expected to see you in skinny jeans." She laughed and went over to wrap her arm around Hal's waist, which appeared all the more slender the way the jeans hugged his hips. He'd have to beat the ladies off with a stick, if he didn't also look so painfully awkward.

Hal just shook his head and sighed. He didn't need to see himself in a mirror to know how absurdly tight Adam's loaned shirt and jeans were. The short shirt sleeves cuffed just over his biceps and the shirt itself threatened to ride up if he moved too much. But the trousers were the worst, hugging every inch of his legs, pressing rather suggestively into certain places. To add insult to injury they were two inches too short, the hem just over his bare ankles. This was almost worse than when he had to dress up for baby Eve's GP.

He was startled by Alex slipping her hand into his back pocket, an action he would have thought impossible. Adam had turned away, carrying the salad bowl into the dining room and Yvonne was busy opening the oven. Alex whispered into his ear, "You look great." Her hand had increased the pressure of the fabric and he seriously began to second guess his choice to forgo Adam's undergarments. "Just don't bend over."

"I highly doubt that I could. Is this seriously popular attire?"

"Been getting hipsters laid for decades now," Alex teased.

"Really Hal, I can find you something more comfortable," Yvonne offered. "I have a clean pair of -"

"No, no. I'm fine. Thanks." The idea of Yvonne dressing him was even worse than what he currently had to contend with. He would make do.

"Well just let me know if you change your mind. Supper is ready."

* * *

As he approached the camp, Tom could sense the unmistakable scent of the pack on the afternoon breeze. Last night, their scent had been even more pronounced than it was today.

Skin warmed by campfire had hit him like a punch in the gut, right through to his dormant wolf. His hackles had raised; his cautionary instincts competed with an undeniable curiosity. Irving had smiled warmly, knowing exactly what he was sensing, and led him jovially around a camper-van. Even though the figures around the fire had undoubtedly picked up their scent, Irving had called out a greeting nonetheless.

"Dia dhóibh!"

"Dia is Muire dhóibh," came the reply from a gruff-looking fellow. He could have been the same age as McNair had been. With close cut, silvering hair and hardened dark eyes, there was something about him that struck Tom as familiar. The man's cursory glance caused the bowl he was holding to give a slight jerk in surprise at seeing Tom. The two other figures at the fire, one an attractive dark-haired woman and the other a small boy who couldn't be older than ten, stared at Tom openly. "Ye found him then," the gruff fellow said to Irving as he stood, wiping the palm of his hand on his jeans.

"Aye. Gave me a lean run he did. Tom McNair, this is Conal Gwedore, my sire."

Tom extended his hand politely. Conal's grip was hearty and assured. "I be honored, Master McNair."

"Eh, just Tom really," Tom answered, feeling awkward at the formality from this strong man. "So you're Irving's Da?"

"Nay. I be his _mactíre athar_, his wolf father. Just as Anthony McNair was to you."

"Did you know him?"

"N'er been granted the pleasure, but I've heard me stories. Your _athar_ and ye'self be the Barry Slayers. And you've had the wolf longer than most of us, me'self included. You care for a cup of stew? There be plenty in the pot."

"But how do you know? My Da and I, we never found many others like ourselves. Who coulda told you bout us?"

"Vampires of course. You be loads famous with 'em," Irving chimed in and Conal caught him in a quick reprimanding glance. Irving pursed his lips and made himself busy over the stewpot.

Conal returned his gaze to Tom. "One I done in a while back, he taunted 'fore I ended him. Addressed me as 'McNair.' Was not hard to track ye down long aft. If it weren't for that one you live with, I reckon they'd have come after you."

"They did once, actually."

"And I reckon you made ash of them then?" Conal asked bluntly.

"Er, yeah. Hal helped..." Tom had been surprised he felt the compulsion to defend Hal, even though he had still been mad at his friend for keeping mum in regards to dogfights. The entirety of his first conversation with this small pack had run him through a range of shifting emotions. Hal was still family, and Tom recognized that despite his initial excitement, these wolves were strangers. The awe of meeting more of his kind had given way to caution, even if the curiosity still held.

"Like I said. If it weren't for him. Anyway, here be our lot. Irving you met. This here's Maud, and the little one's Begley."

Tom nodded politely to each. Irving handed him a tin mug of stew, taking his own serving with him to an upright log of firewood. He motioned Tom to the empty camp chair. The stew was thick and smelled wonderful. Tom's stomach growled as he took the mug and the offered seat. Begley had sat up straight, watching Tom with keen interest and grinning. "You know how to use the wolf to fight!" the child blurted.

"By the strength of the sun and moon," Maud exclaimed with exasperation. "Begley, hush!" She set her bowl aside and smiled at Tom warmly from across the fire. "Forgive the boy his excitement but you've become a bit of a bedtime story."

"I 'ave?" Tom furrowed his brow, setting his spoon back in the stew. This whole encounter had started odd and kept on going into odder. Tom wasn't used to being the center of anyone's attention, except for Allison. He wondered what she would make of all this. He mused that she probably would have a hundred brilliant questions to ask their fellow wolves.

"Aye," Conal concurred. "We're raising the lad with a full knowledge of his world. He needs to know how to look after himself."

"He wasn't born with the wolf, was he?" Tom thought it out loud, immediately dismissive of the possibility.

Irving interjected, "Begley was turned a month after me, a year ago." The boy looked away from them all with a guilty expression. Irving just looked sad. "He's me brother."

"Aye that. Maud and I, we caught up with these two unfortunately too late for young Begley."

"He's me brother. I tried to keep him away, but he found me. Right before the change it was." Irving's voice was rough with remorse.

Tom's heart had dropped, recognizing the youth's story as being painfully similar to George and Nina's. He wondered if it was akin to his own, as well. "And your parents then too?"

"Our parents died long before the wolf, Mr. McNair," Irving stated. Tom wondered then just how long these two brothers had been on their own. Living off the land and outside of the social system was a sure way for a wolf to have come across them. Wolf turned brother, brother turned wolf, and on it went.

Seeming to know his line of thought, Maud spoke sagely and with softness, "We cannot change our past. What we do have the power to change, however, lies ahead of us." Her eyes lit on Conal briefly, "We've acknowledged that we're stronger together than apart."

"Which is why we've sought you out," Conal guided the conversation, and Tom's attention, back to him. "Were you aware that in Celtic lore, werewolves weren't man-eating creatures, but rather protectors? Respected even?"

"McNair said that was our duty, but he ain't never said it was historical an'that," Tom replied, then took a mouthful of stew. It was as delicious as it smelled. He eagerly took another bite, waiting for Conal to say more.

"The stories tell of wolves guiding lost children and guarding wounded men. Even today, a wolf talisman is still believed to ward off evil. In the Northern lands where I hail from, it is said that there were tribes of wolf-men living in the wilds. Ancient Kings would call on em for aid in battle. Did your sire tell you of the Ossarians, young Master McNair?"

"They like the lobisomem?" Tom asked, not wanting to sound completely ignorant of werewolf legends.

Conal shook his head. "Nay. In ancient times, Ossory was a kingdom in Eire. It now be comprised of part o'county Kilkenny. Stories say, the people of Ossory had the power to be changing themselves into wolves whenever they damn-well pleased. Saint Patrick, now, you've heard of him?" Conal asked and Tom nodded. "Well he be the one who pronounced the Ossorians as cursed. When he came round and attempted to preach to them, they howled at him like a pack-"

"Of wolves!" Begley shouted, having obviously heard this story before. He kicked his heels in amusement and Maud ruffled his hair.

"Now, none know what came of that, but some believe Saint Patrick's attempts to cure the Ossorians be what got us where we are today," Conal concluded.

"Changing only at the moon, like?" Tom asked, unsure if that was what Conal meant.

"And cursed, rather than blessed, yes," Maud answered, standing to take her bowl to a wash tub set out next to the camper.

"But the wolf ain't a curse. McNair always said."

"And that we too, believe," Conal answered, watching Maud leave. "Tis just a matter of having the right knowledge. And, leverage."

"Leverage?"

"In one sense, the boy was right." Conal paused, stopping to look Tom right in the eye. "We're hoping you can help teach us, Tom McNair."

"Me? Teach you?"

"You've been one with your wolf since you were a wee lad, correct? You were taught to channel your strength to fight?"

Tom set his empty cup in his lap, the spoon clinking. It wasn't so much that he was taught, though he supposed he had been. Just that he hadn't known any different. He wouldn't even know where to begin. "The wolf is just, well… me. There ain't no channeling, is the thing."

"Do you remember, the next day?"

"Somewhat. Smells, animals… faces. If I made I kill or not. Don't you?"

Conal nodded to himself, mulling his answer over. "Tis as I thought. Most of us awaken with the night's activities completely blank. You've honed it."

"McNair did too… or, at least I thought. But it were the moments right before we always used."

"_During_ the change? But the pain..."

"Up to an hour before is when we're at our strongest," Tom said matter-of-factly. "All our senses are heightened, but so is all else."

Conal nodded, but still looked perplexed. "How'in do you hold it back? How do you get somewhere safe?"

"We didn't," Tom shrugged.

"You mean…"

"We'd ambush our targets and those not taken out beforehand would be locked in with us."

"I see." Conal nodded, but also regarded Tom, impressed.

The more Tom had told them about how he and McNair had operated, the more he _wanted_ to tell them. He had been feeling so lost in his attempts to be normal, to be human. In contrast, this felt perfectly right. Here was a group where his skills and unusual upbringing were valued. This was somewhere he could finally belong. He hadn't been thinking of it as an either-or situation. He had no intention of leaving home or the hotel. But working with a pack, helping others like McNair had helped him, would be a better fit than working his way through the adult education system. It was a better fit than trying to be someone he was not. And this was merely the beginning. The Irish pack knew of others, of more werewolves like themselves who were tired of hiding. Conal hadn't even known about the ability of their blood to burn.

As he came around the camper, the late afternoon breeze off the water blowing against him, Begley came running up to him. "Tom!"

Tom grinned heartily and dropped into a crouch to catch the young lad in a bear hug. Maud stepped outside as well, wiping her hands on a terry.

Slipping it free from the inner lining of his jacket, Tom handed the stake he had hidden to Begley. The little boy's eyes went wide as he took the red-worn wood in his small hands. "We're gonna start with this."

* * *

They all were seated round the antique dining table, plates served, when Yvonne asked, "So, tell me how you two met."

If Alex had been capable of drinking, she would have shot her wine out her nose. Hal, in rare sly humor, covered for her, "She insisted on a date and look what happened..."

"You _killed_ her?" Adam asked disbelieving. "I _knew_ that shit bout the lute was bull!"

Alex recovered, "No! Hal didn't kill me. His crazy-schemes vampire buddy did."

"And you really should give the lute a chance," Hal smiled, but also redirected the conversation. "I hear congratulations are in order. We received your card. Thank you." There had been a heartfelt letter addressed to Annie as well, but Hal thought it best not to mention.

Adam beamed at Yvonne and sweetly took her hand, "There was none other for me."

"Nor I," Yvonne answered. Christa made a gagging sound across the table.

"You'll find someone someday dear. After college," Yvonne advised.

"And Grimsay? You seem settled in rather well." Diplomatically, Hal tried to keep the dinner conversation moving.

"Yes, island life suits us. Far less people to contend with," Yvonne answered and Alex assumed she meant for Adam. "I even managed to secure employment with the museum. The headlines don't often reach up here."

"But there's nothing to do!" Christa argued. "Everyone is old and smells of fish."

"But its safe," Yvonne added. "Relatively."

At that Christa didn't have an argument. She went starkly quiet, actually. This time Adam took the helm, "How's Annie and the blob? We're both still here so all that whack bout the kid being the War Child must have been a load."

Hal set down his glass and tapped his finger against the base. It was going to come to this, eventually. He had just hoped to prolong it. "Oh no, it was true. Eve really was the War Child." He brought his gaze to meet Adam's. "I am sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but Eve was killed. And Annie has passed over."

Yvonne immediately looked consoling, but Adam looked perplexed. "So, you came here to tell me we're going to drop dead?"

"No, you should be fine. Eve and Annie, they ended the Old Ones."

"But you're still here."

"Yes, I'm still here," Hal agreed, sounding sadly resigned, as though it was still a terribly heavy burden.

"A lot has happened..." Alex stepped in. She cocked her head at Hal, feeling suddenly uncertain but he nodded, granting her permission. Between them, they proceeded to fill the table in on the basic details.

"Well colour me impressed. So now you're a bloody unicorn," Adam stated sullenly when they concluded the narrative with Tom's bomb, and the detonation that Annie set off causing the downfall of the Old Ones.

With reluctance, Hal added, "Alas, it does not end there. The power balance is in upheaval. There have been other bombings."

"Surely not by Tom?" Yvonne, startled, asked in disbelief.

"No, Tom's in school," Alex shrugged, as if that explained everything.

"We think a group of werewolves are involved. We have journeyed here to talk to someone on Harris who may know more about it."

"How did you come to find out?" Yvonne asked.

Hal & Alex glanced between each other briefly. Rook hadn't sworn them to secrecy about the Department, but it was obvious most supernaturals weren't meant to know. Alex thought it was bollocks. With a little kick of revenge, she dove in and told them. "There is a hidden faction of the government that has been monitoring the supernatural world for ages. They're all about keeping the lid on vampires, werewolves and ghosts. They clean up the leftovers and make bodies disappear. They keep us secret."

"Like... Men in Black?" Christa asked, trying to wrap her head around the concept.

"No, more akin to men in grey. They disguise themselves as civil workers," Hal elaborated as Christa and Alex exchanged a glance.

"They don't seem to police supernaturals exactly, but yeah," Alex answered since she knew the movie Christa was referring to. The conversation momentarily stalled while Adam, Christa and Yvonne contemplated the implications.

"But why would they just keep covering us up?" Christa asked, breaking the silence. "If they know about us, why not just put us down?" She said the last with vehemence.

Hal met the girl's dark eyes. He recognized now the heaviness of guilt in her. The wolf had caused her to do something she was beginning to hate herself for, and that was probably why she had come to seek the isolation of Grimsay. He chose his words carefully. "Many of us do deserve just that," he included himself in the statement. "However, many do not," he continued, meeting Yvonne's eyes, and then Christa's. "Some embrace their monsters, while others are merely people who have been afflicted with something they cannot control. Would _you_ wish to be the judge and jury of such a thing?"

"But people - innocent people end up murdered!" Christa protested.

"Aye," Alex agreed, surprising Hal. "I'm proof of that. But people die every day. Usually, at the hands of other humans." It was a solemn statement, but Alex didn't let the pause linger. "The Men in Grey do seem to stop the deaths they can anticipate. At least, the big ones. They were prepared to take out Hal, if he reverted..." Alex let the thought trail with an inner shudder, again thankful for his ability to control himself. "The Men in Grey believe that dry vampires pose a larger risk of catastrophe, which is how we found out about them."

"Well, they must not know everything. They didn't stop me," Yvonne sounded saddened.

"Your kind are a little more difficult to track, I'd imagine. But they are aware that you're here. Both of you," Hal admitted. Yvonne cocked her head in surprise.

Adam caught Alex's look of befuddlement and cracked a sly grin. "Yvonne is a succubus," he said it almost like he was proud.

"Adam!"

"Well you are. And a damn fine one I might add," his widening grin broke the tension in the room as he squeezed her thigh under the table. Yvonne slapped him away with her napkin.

Christa rolled her eyes. "See what I have to put up with?"

Alex just watched the whole exchange completely floored. "Excuse me, a what?"

"Human daughter of a demon. I was regretfully, born this way. I'm coming to terms with it. Adam, as well as Annie and Hal, have helped me with that." Yvonne smiled bravely.

"What does it mean exactly?" Alex asked, still completely confused.

"Men fall in love with her if she touches them. It is _seriously_ bloody annoying," Adam answered.

"But now that I know and have accepted it, I am finally learning that I can control it."

"She wears super sexy gloves," Adam winked.

"So vampires are immune then yeah?" Alex asked, glancing between Hal and Adam.

"No," Hal shook his head. "Vampires are not immune from the spell. Merely the outcome."

Yvonne looked to Adam and sighed, this time patting his arm gently, "Adam was the first person I loved, who didn't tragically die."

"Cuz you can't kill what's already dead," Christa concluded.

"Would anyone care for dessert?" Yvonne offered suddenly, standing up and beginning to clear the table, obviously uncomfortable with talking about her condition.

Alex stood as well, "Here, let me help." She levitated the remaining platters, bowls and utensils into one floating stack with barely a thought to it.

"Oh! Now that's handy," Yvonne smiled and the two women departed for the kitchen, Alex pushing the dishes ahead of herself.

Adam leaned across the table to Hal, "Dude, your girlfriend is one sexy -"

"Lay off it, Adam." Hal wasn't irritated though. He watched them go, noting just how strong Alex had become with her abilities, and smiled. "I know."


	11. Percolation and Politics

_Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they own me. Special thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground. Beta assistance from TJ4ev and Whimsyfox enables (most of) my grammar to pass muster for Hal._

_Reviews make me shine from the inside out._

* * *

The Horseshoe was one of Bermondsey's last surviving dives. Neutral territory from vampire politics, it was a place where they intermingled unbeknownst to the predominantly human establishment. Mediocre reviews and the lack of a web presence, combined with a difficult to locate address, kept the crowds down.

Steven Pyke, currently going by the more modern moniker of Spike, was nervously twirling a beading glass of water. Probably for the best, thought Richard. The beer was often suspect here. As was the tea.

With a quick flick of his wrist the lad checked the phone at his side. The little screen illuminated the shadows of his booth, revealing the untidy state of his normally tidy hair and deepening the hollows of his face. Richard sat down opposite, laying his suit coat aside. Spike looked up in surprise at his appearance with a nervous glance around the rest of the room, "You came."

"Of course. Desperate times and all that. What have you got?"

Spike's blue eyes flickered to his phone, then back to Richard. "They took out Edward in Derry. It was all clean and clapped, same as you found in Bristol."

"And you couldn't have told me this over the telephone because…?" Richard let his annoyance show. Steven Pyke had been trying to wedge his way up the hierarchy even before he had come under Turner and Yorke employment. Such behavior that his maker - a vampire who had been in favour with the Old Ones and now, the Council - irritatingly encouraged. The incident when he "discovered" Henry and his werewolf friends by mere happenstance only being the most recent.

Spike leaned forward to whisper across the table, "Because sir, I smelt something odd. Same scent we caught in Lord Harry's locker. Not a wolf. A _human_."

Richard raised an eyebrow, "You think -" but the waitress appeared and he paused.

Setting a menu down in front of him, "Anything to drink to get you started off there?"

Richard kept his eyes on his companion across the table, "Just coffee please," he ordered. The server departed to fetch his coffee and he leaned back in the booth. "The _same_ human?"

Spike hesitated, a flash of uncertainty crossing his finely chiseled features before he nodded. "I believe so."

"You don't say," Richard mused, letting the suspicion percolate.

* * *

After she parked her car, Allison looked up at the corner brick townhouse that was now her home. For the first time since she had moved in, the windows were dark. Alex and Hal were usually home, or barring that, Tom always beat her back from class and would have started preparations for supper. Tonight, however, she seemed to be on her own. Allison gathered her shoulder bag, shut the car door and started up the walk. She had to rummage on her keychain to find the correct key since she barely had need to use it since moving in. Her housemates were surely still away on Rook's errand, given Hal's message from earlier. And perhaps Tom had merely fallen asleep on the sofa after being out all the night before. Or, perhaps he was uncharacteristically, still out.

As she opened the door and turned on the light, her suspicions were confirmed. The kitchen and living room were empty; the house was quiet. Tom hadn't told her over the phone this morning why he had stayed out all night. Only that he was alright and sorry if she worried. He said they'd talk tonight.

Allison checked her phone in case she had somehow missed a message. Confirming there was none, she noted the time, then climbed the stairs to at least look into Tom's room. It was a silly, human thing to do really. Her senses already told her that she was alone in the house.

Tom's room, awash in a blue glow from the pale light coming in the window, was untouched. Not only was he not here, but Tom hadn't come home at all. His school bag still sat where he had left it yesterday and his unkempt bedding hadn't shifted. Allison could make out the folds where she had curled up late last night, waiting for him. She looked around the room, then closed the door. She had research to do and an argument to formulate a draft for. She sorely wasn't interested in either. All she wanted to do was talk to Tom. Maybe her parents were right. Romantic interests in college were nothing but trouble.

Too late now, she supposed.

Still, she continued upstairs to her room. Unlike Tom's, it was neat and orderly. Not nearly as austere as Hal preferred to keep things, but orderly nonetheless. Her bed was made, clothing folded and put away and books on her shelf. The desk where she organized her coursework and thoughts was stacked with various in-progress projects. Above was her working board where she kept the details and arguments of the trial she had chosen for her term paper. Allison ignored all of it. She set her shoulder bag down and pulled free her laptop. Placing it on the desk, she opened it with the idea of checking her email. Then she would return downstairs to distract herself from waiting for Tom with making supper.

Amidst the usual junk and social media notifications was one actual email. The message had been sent earlier that afternoon, though she supposed with the time difference it had been morning for him.

_Greetings Senhorita,_

_I did not realize from your earlier message that you are English. It will be easiest if we communicate in this way. There is very much so a pack of these creatures here. Any local can tell you to avoid the western outlands on nights when the moon is largest. The touristas travel there to hear the howling. It is most unfortunate that many think the howling comes from the local children, but that is not so. I have seen these creatures first hand and know the truth. These are no children. Our city is home to the Lobisomem, and in kind there are just as many cases of missing persons. I had been looking for my cousin when I saw them. I have not seen my cousin since. Usually, one does not see the Lobisomem and return to tell the tale. You and I are very similar in that regard. My study until now had been of the cultural significance. I was interested in the anthropological aspects of myth. I no longer believe we are dealing with myth._

_In fact, I know it to be truth. Perhaps you and I are similar in that regard too._

_I am curious of what myth and story you have uncovered in your own country and how it relates to your encounter._

_Vinnie_

Allison closed the laptop. Given the advancements in the last day, she would need to ponder how best to craft her response. If Vinicius did happen to know about the Lobisomem penchant for explosives, he probably wouldn't just come out and say. She decided to stew on it while starting some pasta.

She was halfway down the stairs when she heard a key in the door and her breath caught, knowing it was Tom. She met him in the foyer, and a brief look of guilt flashed across his features. Something wasn't right. Her senses told her something was off even before she could detect what.

"Where were you? What's going on?" Allison practically attacked him, all her pent up worry turning into irritation at the sight of his sheepish face. "You smell funny." He stood just inside the doorway, clasping his hands. "Tom," Allison started, then saw the mud on his sneakers. "Are you... _slaying_ again?"

"No. Nuthin like that," he shoved his hands into his pockets.

"Then what? Because you're obviously up to something. You don't get a treatment like that on the 95."

"I wasn't on me bus today Allison."

"You can only miss so many days in a term you know, and-"

"I know. It won't be mattering," Tom looked away, feigning a sudden interested in the wallpaper.

"And why not?" Allison demanded. Tom worried at his lip, his brow furrowing. He took a deep breath before answering her.

"I'm not cut out for it is why not."

"Tom - course you are. You're smart! Clever!"

"I know all that. Its just... its not my place. I know it ain't." He stepped forward to take her hand, but faltered. Allison had that look of determination when she was about to launch into a debate. Tom had to stop her before she began, otherwise he'd be done for. He caught her hand and steeled himself, remembering his resolve of the night before. "I know what you'd say. That I'm dead clever an' all and can do anything I put my mind to. Well that's just it. I don't want to. Them classes ain't for me. I'm out of my element and feel useless. Like... a blundering rhino."

Allison furrowed her brow, her glasses tilting. "A rhino?"

"Lemme finish. You're a learned person. You had all this 'fore the the wolf. For me, the woods and killing is all I'd ever known. I'm knowing more now, but there's degrees, you know? You can take a rhino out of the wilds and put him a zoo, but you can't teach him to be something he ain't. Even if he wants to, he'll still always be looking out for fires."

"But you're not a rhino you're a person and-"

"You're right. I'm a person, and people have paths to follow. Mine isn't in class."

Allison wove her fingers through his, pursing her lips in her attempt to understand, "Are you saying you want to quit?"

"I'm saying... I'd already done it. Called on me courses and could still get that deposit back."

"Tom, I don't understand what's happened. Is this because of Hal? You're upset with him so you're going back to slaying vampires?" She cupped his hand, earnest in her concern.

"No - cor' not. Hal never told me not to do any slaying. He just got me thinking 'tis all. Then... I met someone. Last night. Couple o'someones, actually." Tom's gaze fell to their joined hands. "I met a Pack. A real, genuine Pack."

That knocked Allison off of whatever argument she was working up to. She stuttered for a moment, "Wh-wait - you did?"

"Yeah. Werewolves, Irish folks. They're at a car park just past the docks."

Allison slipped free from Tom's grasp, taking a small step back. "Tom, does Rook know about this?"

"They not those Brazilians, so what it matter?"

"Why are they here? You don't think it's funny that suddenly a bunch of Irish werewolves show up out of nowhere? How did they get here? What do they want?" Allison had started wildly gesticulating with her hands.

"Well... by putting their caravan on a boat, I'd imagine. And secondly... me." Tom stated, looking self-conscious.

"You." Allison repeated, not quite sure she understood.

Tom shrugged, "They'd heard of me'n McNair. Wanted to know how we'd done it."

"Done it? Done what?"

"Taken out vampires with a change." Tom leaned against the door and dropped his hands into his pockets again. His guilty look flashed again. Allison knew he felt differently now about killing than he once did. Even if he were still angry with Hal, it wouldn't be enough to drive him into blind slaying. Which was why she didn't understand what he was trying to tell her.

"So you ARE back to slaying," she pressed.

"I didnae say that. Just teaching is all."

"Teaching?!"

"Yeah. See?" Tom, seeming more assured straightened his posture and took a step towards her. "Instead of learning useless stuff I have no care for, I can be teaching folk. I can be helping folk."

"Tom, that's great, really. Course you can help people. But don't you think -" she started and he caught her hands again, stepping close. His large, imploring eyes stopped her thought.

"Really, it comes to this Allison," Tom started, keeping her gaze and rubbing the backs of her hands with his thumbs. "I stayed out last night cuz I couldn't decide how'd you'd feel bout me if I made such a decision. Now, Hal prob won't like it, but he and I have another bone to pick. What matters is you. I'll still -"

"Tom, that's not the point -" she attempted to interrupt him and he squeezed her hands in his, commanding her attention.

"I need to know. I have to ask…" Momentarily he looked down, his eyelids shadowed before he met her gaze once more. "What if I never amount to more than catering? What if this is the only life that suits me? Will you still _like_ me, like me, or will you be leaving me then?" He held her hands and her eyes, watching her face with careful scrutiny. _Did he not know her at all? she_ wondered.

"Oh Tom," Allison sighed, all her arguments forgotten. None of it mattered - not really, because here was the crux of it. Tom, her beautiful Tom, still failed to believe how she felt about him, after all they'd been through. "I'd love you if you had stayed a cafe worker in a burger bar. I already did."

"You did?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "You do?"

"You could do whatever you wanted," Allison stated, then added with a smile, "within the relative confines of the law of course, and I'd still love you. I love you for who you are - not for who you could be someday. I thought you _wanted_ to go to school. You could be a shy, attractive stay-at-home house husband… or a teacher of werewolves. It wouldn't change how I felt one bit." Allison had stepped close to him while she talked, their hands pressed between them. Tom still didn't look like he quite believed her. Or else, his face hadn't quite caught up to believing her just yet. Allison knew she would have to seal the deal. "I love you, Thomas McNair with a T."

Tom's grin started from his eyes and widened through his whole frame. Tom's grin was too big to keep hold inside just himself. He wrapped her up in it, his hands leaving hers to encircle her waist, burying his grin in hair. When he kissed her, it was without shyness or hesitation. When he kissed her, it was as if the whole world was made right.

* * *

"It wasn't something Rook told you, about his department," Alex said while she walked with her arm looped through Hal's. They were out enjoying the sunset with Adam, Yvonne and Christa. The hill walk was apparently a regularly scheduled evening's entertainment.

"I surmised. I had the very same question as Christa, actually," Hal answered. He was walking rather stiffly in the form-fitted jeans with his damp boots. Regardless, Alex had to repress the urge to walk slightly behind him. She knew he was fit - Hell, she had come to know every gorgeous inch of him. But his choice of clothing usually hid the fact. She wondered if she would ever tire of looking at him. She surmised they had a bit of time to find out.

The light truly was spectacular this far North. Alex could see why so many artists flocked to the islands. The sunset stretched off into forever, mirrored by all the elds and inlets that surrounded them. They had come up a footpath through the moor on a slow rise. Alex could almost forget why they were here. It was nice to get away from their own homestead, habits and routines and spend the evening with friends. She had instantly grown rather fond of Adam & Yvonne, and hoped they would have the opportunity to visit again someday.

"They're separate from it all here," Alex mused. "None of what we talked about really affects them." Adam and Yvonne were talking quietly to each other up ahead, while Christa was further afield, taking close-in photographs of plants in the fading light.

"They're lucky they found each other," Hal answered. He didn't often allow himself to drink. The wine they'd had with dinner had made him a touch sentimental. He reached for Alex's hand and she wove her fingers through his with a little contented sigh.

"I wasn't so lucky to have found you," she teased. "But I'm still glad you found me. Being dead is way more fun with you around."

Hal sighed at her light-heartedness over the matter, but she nudged him with her shoulder good-naturedly in response. They walked for a ways, hand in hand, keeping hold of their gentle contentment until Hal spoke again. "Why_ did_ you come back?"

"From Glasgow?"

"No, though I cannot hide that I'm thankful for that. I meant, after we first met. At the café."

"Yeh," Alex snorted a laugh. "You were just so... _you_," she chuckled. "I'd never been rejected in quite that way before. But... I was on holiday and trying to have a good time. My friend Emily had been after me for ages to try for a fling, and there you were; the first guy I had really wanted in long time."

"Are you actually admitting to your own stubbornness?" Hal teased her but smiled.

Alex let go of his hand to loop her arm through his, back into their comfortable pattern of walking. "Course no! But..." she trailed off. It seemed silly to say out loud. She had wondered about it, at first. When she was a newly-made ghost and stuck overwhelmed in a world she didn't entirely understand. Until the strange dream of the night prior, it had been her very last nightmare. Hal remained silent as they strolled, waiting for her. His silence always had a way of prodding her on.

"I had dreamt about you. That night."

Hal did not speak; a sense of foreboding was prickling at the back of his neck but he allowed her the space to continue.

"It was a nightmare really... I was... drowning. In the channel. I could see you standing above, distorted through the water, watching me sink deeper. But then... you saved me."

Hal kept his silence for a long time. Just as Adam and Yvonne were beginning to loop back towards them in the fading light, he uttered quietly, quoting under his breath, "_fate leads him who follows it, and drags him who resists_."

"What's that?" Alex asked, changing the subject.

"Plutarch. Greek."

Hal would never be thankful for the events that brought them together. But he had to admit that he was thankful for her presence in his life now. To whatever end.

* * *

Walking out from the narrow alley behind the Horseshoe, Richard popped a candied mint into his mouth, sucking on the hardened tab. He crunched the cellophane wrapper between his fingers, feeling every crease and the sound jarring. He needed to feed properly tonight and get some rest. Hopefully, Celine would report in soon, the same as Spike had done. She was still fielding clients and research on behalf of the firm, despite her absence.

Richard clapped the lad on the back, "Send my greetings to Rosanna."

Spike nodded, his eyes distractedly scanning the street. It was late. There wasn't much traffic out. The street was empty, pavement darkened with a slight sheen of precipitation.

Richard looked at his timepiece and shrugged into his jacket, tossing the crumpled wrapper to the ground. "We'll call you if we hear of anything."

Spike stepped away, dropping his hands into his pockets. "Are you going to get that?" he asked, indicating the wrapper. Behind Richard, right on time, a large, white van pulled around the corner and lumbered towards them.

Richard just raised an aristocratic eyebrow, "You're kidding, right?"

"You wouldn't want to get picked up for littering now, would you?"

"As if that would happen." Richard laughed throatily as he started to walk away.

The van pulled to the curb and the back doors swung open. Spike observed four men, suited in identical grey, hop out. The last one gave him the barest of nods from behind Mr. Turner, before he discreetly pointed a small Taser at their quarry. The weapon caught the elder vampire mid-step, the soft clicks startling against the quiet street. The clicking ceased and Richard Turner sank limply into the practised catch of a second suited man. In a strangely prepared choreography, the third man hoisted Mr. Turner's legs while the fourth administered a non-delicate syringe to the neck. In less than seven seconds, they hefted Richard Turner into the back of the van, closed the doors and sped away.

Spike was left standing alone on the street.


End file.
